


In Which the Council Makes a Truly Stupid Ass Decision

by megster



Series: The Further Adventures of the Avengers (and Phil Coulson) [3]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:46:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 36,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megster/pseuds/megster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time the Council made a decision this stupid, Iron Man had to fly a nuke into outer space through an unstable alien portal to save the world.</p><p>This time, things may get even worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Phil Coulson is Not Part of the Initiative Anymore

Phil has worked for Nick Fury for a long time. Over the years, he’s picked up the giveaways, the tells, the signs Fury gives off without realizing it.

Today is not a good day.

If Phil had to guess, he’d say that Nick and the Council have been at it again.

He’s not wrong.

“Long story short,” Nick says, and Phil detects a certain weariness in his voice, “The Council has made a decision that I need to abide by, but strongly disagree with.”

They are in Nick’s office, and Phil is standing calmly in front of the desk. He’s got a bad feeling about this, because the last time that Nick had _strongly disagreed_ with the Council, there had been a nuke aimed for New York.

“I’m going to have to go through with this,” Nick says, “But for the record, I’m hoping it doesn’t last long.”

“Just spit it out,” Phil says, and it’s true that not many people would take the liberty to be so flippant with Director Fury, but Phil figures he’s earned the right to be a little bit snarky.

“The Council fears that you’re unable to remain objective where the Avengers are concerned. Frankly, they’ve been on my ass about this for a while, but it seems that the Banner abduction was the last straw. You’ve been temporarily suspended as the Avengers’ handler.”

Phil is actually stunned for a moment, because when it comes down to it, he’s been part of the Initiative since before it technically existed. “Sir, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Trust me, Coulson, I know damn well that it isn’t a good idea. It’s been taken out of my hands.”

There is a loaded silence in the room.

Nick says tiredly, “How are they going to take the news?”

Phil is too mature to be angry, and the Council has a point. He’s nothing if not professional, so he tells Nick that Tony will probably whine, Steve will quietly disapprove, Thor may be hard to handle, although not intentionally, Bruce will not talk to the new handler directly for a while, Natasha will treat him or her with cold indifference, and Clint will have a blank look on his face during debriefs and will likely ignore orders during missions like he usually does.

And Phil knows that he’s put on his standard-bland-government-suit act, and he knows that Nick won’t be fooled, but he’s upset and figures that Fury has a right to know that.

“I’d like you to be in the room when I tell them,” Nick says. 

Phil gives a curt nod.

*          *          *

“What the _fuck_ , Fury,” Tony says, pissed. “Absolutely _not_.”

Phil glances over at him, and he’s standing in that fuck-you-I’m-Tony-Stark way he has, with his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted aggressively and his sharp brown eyes flashing. He’s looking for a fight, Phil sees, and that won’t be helpful. “Mr. Stark,” he says quietly. “Director Fury didn’t make this decision.”

Tony looks at him sharply when he calls him Mr. Stark, because Phil hasn’t called him that since their earliest days. In deference to Phil, Tony shuts up, and Phil has to wonder when _that_ started happening.

“I’m not entirely comfortable with this either, Director,” Steve says evenly, in a voice that’s approaching his Captain America persona but isn’t quite there yet.

Fury says, “I’m not entirely concerned with what you are or aren’t comfortable with. The world needs saving, and you can do it without Agent Coulson.”

“I beg to differ,” Natasha says, her voice and eyes flat.

Phil takes a brief look around the room, and realizes that this conversation is going to get nowhere with the Avengers in their current frames of mind.

So he says, “Director, if we could have a moment?”

Nick looks at him with narrowed eye, nods, and steps out of his office. Highly irregular, but then again, everything about the Avengers is irregular.

As soon as Fury is out of the office, the team bursts into protests. Or rather, Tony bursts into protest, with Thor adding his opinion occasionally and Steve agreeing emphatically. Bruce has his eyes closed, lips tight. Natasha is fiddling with her hands, which she only does when she’s upset, and when she speaks there is the slightest trace of a Russian accent. And Clint has not said a word since the meeting has started, which is very uncharacteristic and a very bad sign.

Phil lets them talk for a while, and allows himself to feel a little surprised and gratified that the Avengers think so highly of him. He’s not so blind as to ignore the fact that he is as good as it gets, but it’s nice to know that they think so.

When they quiet down a little, Phil raises his voice, and they all pay attention because Phil rarely, if ever, raises his voice. “I know this isn’t optimal,” he says, “But neither Director Fury nor I believe it will last very long.” Phil doesn’t voice his own concerns, because he needs them to accept this, and telling them that he’s worried too won’t get that done.

“If it’s all the same to you all,” he continues, “I’d like to keep living in the tower-”

And Tony interrupts, saying, “Jesus, of _course_ you’re going to stay in the tower, do you think we’re going to throw you onto the street?”

Phil wouldn’t, of course, have ended up on the street. He has two secure safe houses within twenty miles of here, and two more within fifty, not including his S.H.I.E.L.D. quarters. But he really does prefer to stay with his team, even if they aren’t technically _his_ anymore.

“All right, then,” Phil says. “I’ll help where I can, but I’m not officially your handler and liaison anymore.”

“Who is?” Bruce asks warily.

And Phil does allow his displeasure to show this time, because he had fought Fury _hard_ on this and lost, because he’d pushed hard for Sitwell or Woo, or even Hill because the Avengers at least respected all three senior agents. But Fury had refused to appoint all three, Sitwell and Woo on the grounds that they were too close to Coulson, and Hill on the grounds that she had other, more pressing responsibilities than a group of dysfunctional superheroes. 

He understands the power the World Security Council holds, understands that sometimes Fury has to acquiesce to their wishes. But Fury has _no_ excuse for appointing an agent that Phil doesn’t know, that none of the Avengers know, to be their handler and liaison. 

If things go pear-shaped, it will be this that he holds against the director.

“I don’t know much about him,” Phil admits. “Agent Charles Levine. Mid-thirties. Former Navy SEAL. Very competent, from what I’ve heard.” (Also very volatile, and not used to being disobeyed, is what Phil doesn’t tell them. Why Fury thinks the Avengers will work with him, Phil doesn’t know.)

There is a tense silence.

“Give him a fair chance,” Phil says. 

“Fine,” Tony says. “But a hundred bucks that he doesn’t last a week.”

Steve gives a curt nod.

Bruce says, “I’ll try.  No promises from the other guy.” And it’s true, the Hulk is known to take orders from Phil in the field, but even that took a few months to accomplish.

Thor says (or rather, booms), “I shall endeavor to accept this new shield-brother into our group, although I fear he will not be so adept in the field as the Son of Coul.”

Natasha gives a shrug.

And Clint does exactly nothing, neither confirms nor denies that he will work with Levine, but Phil holds his gaze and eventually his chin dips once in agreement. 

“Levine would like to hold a team meeting tomorrow to introduce himself. 0900. Don’t be late,” Phil says. “You’re all dismissed.”

They all leave, and Phil is actually about to go sit behind the desk before he realizes that he isn’t in his own office. 

He somewhat sheepishly follows the others out.

*          *          *

“Clint,” Phil tries.

Clint shrugs at him. “It’s fine. Like you said, it won’t last long. And you’ll still be watching us. Don’t even pretend you won’t.”

That’s true. But it’s also true that the last time Clint had had a handler who wasn’t Phil or Sitwell, he’d ended up a hostage of a HYDRA-linked terrorist cell for six weeks. And the time before _that_ doesn’t even bear mentioning. (But there had been severe repercussions, including seven agents being dismissed from S.H.I.E.L.D.)

But what choice does he have?

“All right,” he says, and tries to ignore the feeling in his gut that says this will not end well.

*          *          *

It’s strange to watch the team leave the tower and head for S.H.I.E.L.D. without him. 

It’s even stranger to realize that he’s caught up on paperwork and doesn’t really have anything to do.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.?” Phil asks at precisely 0900. “Do you still have access to S.H.I.E.L.D. security cameras?”

“Of course, Agent Coulson,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says, sounding faintly insulted that Phil would have to ask. “Would you like to watch the meeting with Agent Levine?”

Phil kind of winces, because it’s sort of sad that it’s come to this already, him spying on the Avengers and their new handler, but he says, “Yes, please.”

J.A.R.V.I.S. obliges, pulling up the video feed onto Phil’s tablet.

Phil takes in the scene and stifles a groan, because the body language in the room is less than encouraging.

New guy is almost as tall as Steve, and almost as broad. Dark hair, cool grey eyes. And he is up in Tony’s face already. Bad sign.

There’s no audio to go with the video, but Phil’s a good lip reader. And he can mostly tell what Levine is saying. 

_I don’t care who the fuck you are. You will obey orders without complaint. I don’t give a fuck whether you have daddy issues or debilitating flashbacks every time water hits you in the face. All I care about is that you listen to what I tell you in the field. Understood?_

Tony actually flinches, and Steve aggressively shoves himself between the two men, protective as always.

His phone beeps, and he checks. From Natasha. _He’s awful. Steve is about to deck him._

Phil’s lip twitches. _Check up and to your left,_ he replies.

He watches the feed as Natasha surreptitiously checks in the direction he indicated, sees her smirk into the camera. 

His phone beeps again. _This is not going to end well._

_No_ , he replies. _I don’t think it will_.

There is a sudden flurry of activity on the screen as Levine turns to Bruce and Thor abruptly slams Mjolnir into the table, cracking it.

Phil reads the words from his lips. _Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. You overstep your boundaries. The warrior Bruce is thrice the man you could ever strive to be_.

Bruce’s left hand is clenching and unclenching, an easy tell for Phil. Bruce is stressed, and shoving away anger.

Natasha and Clint both see too, and Phil nods in approval as Clint deliberately places himself between Bruce and Levine, relaxed but ready for trouble.

Phil can’t see Levine’s face now, but he sees Clint’s. Clint isn’t saying anything, and his eyes are so, so, blank. 

He wants to punch something.

Actually, he may go up to the headquarters and punch Fury. 

But he’s supposed to be a professional, so he texts Natasha. _Don’t do anything stupid._

Her reply is immediate. _If this meeting lasts for five more minutes, there will be one less living person in this room and I will be a fugitive again._

_Fine_ , Phil texts back. 

Then he racks his brain. He needs to end this meeting now, apparently.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.? Do you have access to the alarm systems?”

“No, Agent Coulson, I do not. I can look into it for future occasions.”

“Okay,” Phil says absently. Plan B. Darcy. 

He calls his office. As expected, Darcy picks up.

“Hey, boss-man. What’s up? Why’re you calling me? You _know_ I don’t like talking on the phone.”

“I need you to trip some kind of alarm. A fire alarm, or a carbon monoxide one,” Phil says.

There is silence on the other end as Darcy processes this request. “Okay,” she says finally, “But you’re going to explain later. By the way, why aren’t you in today?”

“The Director suggested I take a day off,” Phil says. “Just, go do what I asked. Try not to make it too obvious and I’ll buy you cupcakes tomorrow.”

“You got it, boss,” Darcy says. “Man, I _love_ this job.”

Phil watches the meeting room, and less than a minute later, Tony bolts out the door, the others close behind him.

His phone beeps. From Clint. _Thanks_.

*          *          *

Agent Charles Levine, Phil realizes, is a bit of a sociopath, more than a little insensitive, and simply could not give a damn about this team.

Phil doesn’t like him, although he’s honest enough with himself to admit that he never gave Levine a chance.

It makes him feel better, though, when Darcy comes crashing into his office one day with lunch from their favorite Chinese restaurant and snarls, “I swear, Phil, if Levine says _one more fucking thing_ to Bruce about the Hulk being a ‘menace,’ he and I are going to have a conversation, and it _will_ include Tony’s newest taser. I will _not_ hesitate to electrocute the man into next week. Asshole.”

Phil looks up from the report he’s reviewing to see an extremely displeased Darcy sprawled across his couch. 

“Come eat with me,” she growls. “I need to eat away my anger.”

“Stress eating isn’t good for you,” he says evenly, but comes out from behind the desk.

“Oh, this is not _stress_ ,” Darcy says. “This is anger-eating. This is I-need-this-Levine-guy-the-fuck-away-from-us eating.” She stabs her chopsticks into the lo mein with more gusto than strictly necessary.

Phil doesn’t bother asking what happened, because he knows that Darcy will fume for five to ten more minutes before telling the story. He just calmly reaches for his own pair of chopsticks and goes for the kung pao shrimp and steamed rice.

Sure enough, six minutes into their meal, Darcy says, “So, this morning, I was sitting at the table with Bruce and Natasha, and really it was turning out to be a _nice_ breakfast, and then Agent Dickhead calls and asks Bruce could he please come into headquarters to discuss the civilian casualties his “mindless alter-ego” caused during last month’s AIM attack. I thought Natasha was going to order a hit on him then and there.”

Phil says, “I took care of the AIM paperwork. None of it was Bruce’s fault.”

Darcy narrows her eyes. “Of course you took care of it, because you’re scarily competent and an awesome person, but Levine just wants to fuck with Bruce and we all know it.”

Phil does know, and he’s already mentioned it to Fury. Fury, however, had just glared and said that the Avengers were big kids and would learn to deal with it. Phil had accepted the answer, but he also knows that if any of them get hurt unnecessarily because Levine is being careless or too ruthless, he will not accept this answer from Fury.

“If it helps,” Phil says, “He probably won’t last long.”

Darcy stares at Phil, and her eyes hold none of the mischief and laughter they usually do. “It’s already been too long,” she says. “Or haven’t you noticed? Bruce won’t leave his room, Tony hasn’t come out of his lab in _days_ , and Clint only moves through the air ducts. Pepper’s gotten into three shouting matches with him. Natasha won’t speak to Levine unless he asks her a direct question, and even Thor spends more time with Jane here at headquarters than at the tower. Steve spends all his time beating up punching bags. I haven’t tased Levine yet, but he’s got it coming to him if he keeps this up.”

Phil looks at her sharply, because Darcy is far, far more observant than she lets on, and Phil knows this, but it’s still jarring to realize how much she notices about the team.

“I’ll talk to Clint and Natasha,” Phil says. “And Steve.”

Darcy makes a face at him. “Leave _me_ with the difficult ones,” she says, but without any force.

“Thor’s not difficult,” Phil says, face completely straight.

“Shut up,” Darcy says, sighing. “Operation: Comfort Avengers is a go.”

 


	2. Phil and Darcy Are On a Mission (And Then the Avengers Go On One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy and Phil try to help the Avengers deal with Levine. It may or may not be working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while since I've updated! Real life got in the way. Hope you enjoy!

Darcy calls Pepper, because you know, she has a right to a little bit of cowardice every now and then, and right now she doesn’t feel up to talking to Bruce because there are _feelings_ involved there and she may or may not be ready to admitting them to herself.

“Pepper? Did I interrupt something?”

Pepper says dryly, in the tone of voice that is usually reserved for Tony, “Not at all, Darcy. Just a board meeting.”

“I need the override codes to get into Tony’s workshop,” Darcy says.

“Is something wrong? Do I need to come home?” Pepper sounds concerned.

Darcy thinks about it for a few seconds. “Let me try, first,” she says finally. “And if I can’t get it done, I’ll call you.”

“Okay,” Pepper says, because she has always been good about backing off and giving other people a chance. 

Darcy doesn’t write down the access codes; she’d never compromise Tony’s safe place like that. But she has a good memory, and the overrides are simple enough.

Armed with the codes, a syringe of Jane’s best hangover cure, Tony’s favorite cake pops, and possibly the biggest mug of coffee she’s ever seen, Darcy makes her way down to the workshop.

She tries knocking first.

“Go away, Steve!” comes Tony’s voice. He’s slurring a little, and Darcy feels like punching Levine.

“It’s Darcy,” she says, “So let me in.”

“Go ‘way, Darce,” Tony says. “I’m just a heartless bastard and none of you need me.”

Darcy takes a deep, calming breath. “J.A.R.V.I.S., may I use Pepper’s override codes?”

“Please do, Miss Lewis,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says.

Darcy does, and the door to the workshop opens.

She storms in, and bumps into Dummy. “Sorry,” she says to him, because her life is weird in that way- she sometimes has to apologize to sentient robots.

She turns to Tony, who is sitting on the floor, surrounded by various bottles of alcohol and holding some of Natasha’s best vodka. “Jesus Christ,” she says. “Isn’t this a bit cliche, even for you?”

He just looks at her with slightly glazed eyes, and yep, he’s well and drunk. Darcy hasn’t seen him this drunk since, well, never. She hadn’t actually been around for his really self destructive phase.

“Leave me alone,” Tony says petulantly, and it’s hard to believe that his disheveled man on the ground is one of the greatest minds the world has ever seen.

Darcy sets the cake pops and coffee on a work bench and slips the syringe in her pocket. It’ll come in handy in the morning. “You and I are going to have a sleepover,” she says firmly.

Tony gazes lewdly at her boobs, which is how she knows he’s really wasted, because it’s been a while since he fixated on them.

“Not _that_ kind of sleepover, you idiot,” Darcy says, but her voice is gentle. Because hey, she’s not heartless, and Tony doesn’t need any more deprecating comments at the moment.

“Darcy. Really. Go away.”

“Nope,” Darcy says cheerfully. “Now give me some booze.”

He doesn’t even protest when Darcy grabs the vodka from his hand, doesn’t say anything when she just puts it away without taking a sip.

“I think I’m drunk,” Tony admits, running a hand through his hair. 

“What tipped you off?” Darcy says, “The empty bottles around you or the fuzzy way you’re seeing the world?” because that’s their relationship, a give and take, lighthearted banter.

“The fuzzy,” Tony says, closing his eyes, and Darcy is suddenly overcome by an urge to give him a hug.

“Tony,” she says. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“About what?” But Tony is more or less the smartest man in the world, certainly in the top five, and Darcy sees right through him.

“About us not needing you,” she says sharply.

“Well, it’s fucking true, isn’t it?” He opens his eyes, and Darcy bites her lip when she sees the lost look in them. “Iron Man, recommended for the Initiative. Tony Stark, not so much. You don’t fucking need me, because I’m a fuck-up and an asshole and a danger to everyone around me. Hell, Fury’s made it clear that he’d rather have anyone but me in the suit. Maybe one of these days I’ll drink myself to death and Fury can turn whoever he wants into Iron Man. Maybe he’ll find someone with a heart.” There’s a bitter twist to his lips as he says this, and it’s clear that he’s repeating someone else’s words. Darcy literally sees red for a moment, and wonders if this is what it’s like for Bruce, except in green.

Darcy feels a little like she’s been punched in the gut, because Tony Stark is arrogant and loud and obnoxious, but he is generous to a fault and absolutely brilliant. “Is that what you think?” Darcy asks, “Because you are _so_ out of touch with reality if that’s what you believe.”

“It’s fine, Darcy,” Tony says. “You don’t have to lie to me just because I’m drunk and weepy.” He isn’t, in fact, weepy. Yet.

“For the love of Thor,” Darcy says, and _fuck_ , is that a thing she’s actually saying now? Apparently so. “This is the one time ever that I am going to say these things to you. J.A.R.V.I.S., record what I am about to say, please, because these words are very true, but will never pass my lips again, and Tony may be too drunk to remember this conversation.”

She sits down next to Tony, sliding down the wall and landing with a slight thump. “Don’t ever let me hear you fucking say that we don’t need you. Because the next time that you do, I will tase you without a second thought. We need you. And I don’t mean just us. The _world_ needs Tony Stark because he is a brilliant, brilliant man who hides his kindness behind a mask of not-caring and pretending-to-be-an-asshole. Also. You flew the nuke into outer space and sort of literally saved the world. And the Avengers would fall apart without you, you know that? And I don’t mean Iron Man, because they could maybe make it through without Iron Man. The team would fall apart without Tony Stark, because the way I see it, if Steve is the moral compass of this outfit, you are the fucking heart and soul of the team. If you haven’t noticed, you guys are all a little fucked up. Phil was clinically dead for two hours, Steve’s a capsicle, Thor’s brother is a fucking lunatic who tried to conquer Earth, Bruce turns big and green when he’s angry, and let’s not even go into the lives of our resident assassins. You pull them together. You give them a place to call home, and maybe you’re not a soldier but you’re ten times the man your father was and you fight on the frontlines, and don’t even pretend that you don’t care about everyone, because it’s a little crazy, but you’ve made this team into a family with your new tech that you just ‘happen to have on hand’ and your stupid crash-course-to-pop-culture movie nights and mandatory karaoke nights.” Darcy pauses. “And if I was Pepper, this is probably the point where I’d lean in and give you a passionate kiss and tell you you’re a wonderful man, but I am definitely not Pepper so I am definitely not going to do that. You’re a good man, Tony. Don’t forget that.”

Tony just looks at her, silent for once, and if he actually does look a little weepy, Darcy won’t hold it against him because the guy probably hasn’t slept in days and gives a whole new meaning to the term “shit-faced.” Besides, her little speech had been pretty damn inspirational. She hadn’t even prepared. She mentally gives herself a gold star. Phil is going to be proud.

“Wanna watch a movie?” She offers.

“I guess,” he says, and he sounds pleased that she’s offering to stay, so she scoots closer to him and rests her head on his shoulder, because, well, sometimes human contact is nice, and she thinks that maybe Tony doesn’t get enough nice, normal, casual-I’m-your-friend-so-I-can-touch-you contact.

J.A.R.V.I.S. puts on _Slumdog Millionaire_ because it’s one of Darcy’s favorites, but Tony falls asleep about ten minutes in and Darcy doesn’t last much longer than that.

When she wakes up, Tony is beginning to stir. She sits back silently, because the hangover after his little alcohol binge last night is going to be _killer_.

Sure enough, he cracks open one eye and groans softly. “Fuck,” he says, “Remind me never to do this again.”

Darcy offers him the syringe of Jane’s-magical-hangover-cure. “It helps. Jane’s contribution to human society.”

Tony looks at her dubiously, and she can nearly _see_ the moment when he decides possibly getting rid of his hangover is worth sticking a needle in his arm. He takes the syringe from her and injects it with a grimace.

“Come on up when you’re feeling better,” Darcy says. “I’ll have a truly magnificent breakfast spread in front of you. By the way,” she adds as an afterthought, “I’m a big fan of Iron Man and all, but I’ve got to say that I like Tony Stark even better.”

Tony gives her a smile, an honest-to-God real smile, not the one he gives when he’s angry or trying to put on a face for the world, a smile free of anything but _Tony_ , and Darcy figures her night was well spent.

*          *          *

Phil glances down at his phone. A text from Darcy: _One down, two to go. Tony’s functional again_.

He smiles slightly, and texts her back. _You’re winning. I’m about to get Natasha_.

_Good luck._

He goes to the gym in search of Natasha, and finds Steve instead. Which isn’t exactly the plan, but Phil is used to improvising.

He stands in the doorway and watches Steve pound away at a punching bag. It took Tony a while to figure at a system of levers and pulleys that could hold the bag relatively steady while Steve went at it. It took him even longer to design a punching bat that was strong enough to take Steve’s punches and still give enough to not break Steve’s hands.

Phil waits for Steve to notice him, and it takes a good five minutes before he does. 

“Phil,” Steve says, and he’s not even out of breath. “Did you need something?”

“Actually,” Phil says, still standing in the doorway, “I was wanting to talk to you. About Agent Levine.”

Steve’s body language instantly goes from relaxed to defensive. His voice is guarded as he says carefully, “What about him?”

Phil shrugs. “Just anything. How do you feel about him? How does the _team_ feel about him?”

Steve’s shoulders slump slightly. “With all due respect,” he says, “I think Director Fury may have made the wrong decision in this scenario.”

Phil sighs. “I would have to agree.”

Steve looks at him, blue eyes sharp. “Can we have you back as our handler? Levine just rubs me the wrong way.”

Phil keeps his voice even as he says, “Rubs you the wrong way?”

Steve takes another swing at the punching bag. “Yes,” he says. Another punch. “I don’t like people who mess with my team. They’re all I have, and they’re uncomfortable with him. _I’m_ uncomfortable with him. When it comes down to it, I don’t know if I can trust him in the field, and I won’t trust the lives of my team to someone I don’t know.”

A particularly vicious flurry of attacks on the punching bag. Phil waits him out.

“And,” Steve says coldly, which is odd for him because he’s a generally friendly person, “If Levine says _one_ more thing about Tony being a liability to the team, I will personally deal with him. And maybe get Natasha to help.”

Phil nods. “Trust me,” he says dryly, “Natasha may deal with him on her own. With or without you.”

Steve smiles a little, a small, angry sort of smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Director Fury is playing games with us,” he says, “And I’m willing to deal with them, but only up to a point.” 

“Duly noted,” Phil says, and silently leaves as Steve turns back to his punching bag.

*          *          *

Darcy is stuffing her face with Tony in the main kitchen when a sweaty Steve appears. “Hey,” he says, and Darcy has to admit that Steve is acting more and more normal around her tank tops and booty shorts (hey, it’s not like she’s going out) every day. 

“Hi,” Darcy says, her mouth still full. “Help yourself to the food.”

Steve takes in the table full of food, sees Tony actually _eating_ , and flashes her a quick, sincere smile. “Thanks,” he says, and not just for the breakfast.

Darcy grins at him and texts Phil. _I’m still going to win._

The reply is almost immediate. _You’re the one lounging around eating breakfast. I’m still working._

*          *          *

Phil _is_ , actually, still working. He’s found Natasha on the roof, and he figures if she really didn’t want to be found, she’d try harder.

She’s sitting on the edge of the building, feet swinging. She doesn’t turn around when she hears him come onto the roof, doesn’t even reach for the guns Phil knows she keeps on her person.

She doesn’t speak, and neither does Phil. He does come to sit beside her, though.

They sit there in companionable silence for a while.

Finally, Natasha says, “I know why you’re here.”

“Well,” Phil says, “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Natasha says, “He doesn’t bother me. But he bothers the others. And I don’t trust him.”

“No,” Phil says. “Steve said the same thing.”

Natasha looks at him steadily. “I’m not going to tolerate incompetence in the field.”

“All reports indicate that he’s a very competent handler,” Phil says.

She shakes her head. “I pulled his file with J.A.R.V.I.S.’s help. He’s got a reputation for treating his assets as disposable. Bruce’s green friend and Thor are indestructible. I have a sense of self-preservation. Tony doesn’t. Steve doesn’t. _Clint_ doesn’t.”

“No,” Phil agrees, sighing, “They really don’t.”

“So,” Natasha says, “I _need_ you on the comms.”

Phil just looks at her. “If anything goes wrong your first time out, I will. He gets one chance.”

“Fine,” Natasha says, not sounding entirely satisfied. She gets up with her customary grace and leaves Phil sitting on the roof.

He remains there for a moment, because it’s sort of peaceful. And it gives him time to rein in his concerns, because Natasha is absolutely right and Levine has _no_ business being the handler to a team like the Avengers. There’s too much that can go wrong, and Phil would be lying if he said he wasn’t dreading their first mission.

And as if his thoughts summon a crisis, alarms blare through the tower.

Because there’s nobody around to see, he allows his customary composure to sleep and he says, “ _Shit_ ,” with quite a lot of feeling.

Then, because he’s Phil Coulson, he pulls himself together and goes to find the team.

They’re suiting up efficiently as usual, but maybe there’s a weird sort of tension hanging in the room.

“Situation?” Phil asks quietly.

“Frost giants in the Chrysler Building,” Clint says. 

Natasha makes a face. "I hate that place," she says.

"Oh, that wasn't fun," Phil agrees.

Clint looks confused.

"You weren't there for this one," Phil explains. "You were in Dubai."

Clint's face clears.

“Lady and gentlemen,” Tony says. “We really have bigger issues right now. Thor’s already on site. Let’s roll.”

As they leave, Phil says, “J.A.R.V.I.S.” and the AI pulls a feed from Tony’s suit onto Phil’s tablet.

He just can't shake his feeling of dread.


	3. Shit Happens When Phil's Not On the Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are frost giants, self sacrifices, collapsing buildings, a wild ride through the crowded streets of New York, and Phil can't just sit back and watch.

It’s probably against every S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol there is, but at this point, Phil doesn’t care. He’s pacing anxiously in the living room, eyes glued to his tablet, listening in on the team’s comm lines.

Darcy sits nervously on the couch. She’s always nervous when they go out, but this time it’s different, because Phil isn’t there, and there aren’t too many people Darcy trusts with her best friends’ collective safety. Agent Levine definitely doesn’t make the list.

“I hate this,” she says, voice tight.

“Me too,” Phil admits. 

*          *          *

“Frost giants _suck_ ,” Tony snarls, blasting one with his repulsor. It takes a step back and turns its attention away from Natasha and onto Tony. She waves one hand at him in thanks before sprinting after another one.

“Verily,” Thor agrees, swinging Mjolnir and sending a frost giant flying into a building.

“Role call,” Steve announces, sounding winded.

“Iron Man, able-bodied and still fighting. Although I really fucking hate these things.”

“I am faring well against these enemies of mine,” Thor booms.

The Hulk roars.

“Hawkeye, still in position. Low on explosive arrows though. Moving to sonic soon.”

“Black Widow, here. I have to concur with Iron Man.”

Steve takes in the battle scene. The team has the frost giants mostly under control (there are only four of them), and nobody is badly hurt. Steve just begins to think that this mission may not actually be a disaster when Clint says, “I’m about to lose my perch.”

Steve sends his shield flying into a frost giant, then spares a glance towards Clint’s position. His actual perch is steady, but the overhang above it is certainly not. In fact, the whole building looks a little shaky.

“Stay in position, Hawkeye,” a new voice says. “Your position is secure.”

“With all due respect,” Clint says heatedly, “It really isn’t.”

“Stay where you are,” Levine says again, “And that’s an order.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve says sharply, over Levine, and it’s been a while since he’s used anyone’s real name during a mission, so Tony immediately turns away from his frost giant and streaks toward Clint. In the meantime, Steve dispatches the frost giant in front of him with a vicious swing of his shield and goes to help Natasha with the one Tony abandoned.

“Iron Man, abort. Hawkeye is _fine_. That’s the only place he can make the shots.”

“You _blithering idiot_ ,” Tony snarls as he maneuvers around buildings, “He _won’t_ be fine when the building collapses on him. He’ll make the shots from elsewhere. He never misses.”

“Clint, _jump_ ,” Tony says a little frantically. 

“Steve, duck,” Clint says calmly, ignoring Tony.

Steve drops to the ground immediately. Two arrows come flying in right where his head had been, attach themselves to the frost giant he thought he had downed with his shield, and explode.

“ _No_ , dammit, _Clint_ -” Tony says, desperation coloring his voice.

“Those were my last ones-” Clint is cut off by a resounding crash.

Steve whirls around. Natasha is already facing the building Clint had been on, and there’s a horribly terrified look in her eyes. 

“Iron Man!” Steve says. “Hawkeye!”

There is a deafening silence.

“Did Tony-” Steve says helplessly. He can’t even finish his sentence.

Natasha says softly, “I didn’t see.”

“Avengers, _pay attention_. There are still three frost giants to take care of.”

Natasha’s eyes narrow dangerously, but she goes to help Thor.

Steve ignores Levine and sprints toward the remains of the building.

*          *          *

They can’t all be geniuses. Tony gets that, he really does. But anybody with any sense would see that the building Clint is standing on is about to go down and Levine is either a complete imbecile or has no regards whatsoever for Clint’s life. Tony’s willing to bet it’s a combination of both.

Tony _is_ a genius though, even if Levine is not, and on top of that, he has J.A.R.V.I.S., who tells him that the building is going to collapse in 4.4 seconds and Tony is 6.1 seconds away. 

He also sees that Steve is about to get hit by a wintry blast from behind, and he sees that Clint has two arrows set against his bowstring, and he sees that Clint is going to take this shot and go down with the fucking building.

He accelerates, but he’s _not going to get there in time_.

“Clint, _jump_ ,” he says. Please jump, he thinks to himself. 

For a moment, Clint looks to where Tony is flying towards him. He gives him a hard grin. _Can’t_ , he mouths to Tony. _No time._

Then he tells Steve to duck, and takes the shot. 

He doesn’t miss.

“ _No,_ dammit,” Tony says, “ _Clint-_ ”

Clint starts to say something, the building starts to go-

Tony strains, shouting at J.A.R.V.I.S., “Come _on_ , more power, _more_ ,”pleading for a burst of energy-

The suit responds, operating at nearly 320% (which is _not_ good for the arc reactor, but sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do), and Tony speeds up.

_Yes,_ Tony thinks, _I’ve got enough, I’ve got enough_ -

He hurtles into Clint, covering the other man’s body with his own, and then tons of concrete crashes down on both of them and Tony blacks out.

*          *          *

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,” Phil says, “I’m going to _kill_ that asshole.”

Darcy is on her feet immediately.

She looks at Phil pleadingly, and Phil says, “J.A.R.V.I.S., can you put the comm lines on speaker?”

J.A.R.V.I.S. complies, and Darcy stares at the Iron Man feed from over Phil’s shoulder.

“Oh my God,” Darcy says, as they hear Tony urging the suit on, hear Clint telling Steve to duck.

And then Tony crashes into Clint and the feed turns into static.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Phil says, and Darcy’s never heard him sound so worried before. Then his eyes turn to steel and he looks at Darcy. “Let’s go,” he says, and he sounds more like himself- cool, calm, and in control.

“Go to the workshop,” Phil says, “And grab the spare arc reactor. I have a hunch we may need it. I’ll meet you out front with Steve’s bike.”

Darcy nods, and _fuck_ , it’s hard being friends with people who risk their lives on a regular basis. Her heart is in her throat and she doesn’t think of Tony and Clint buried under a mountain of rubble, can’t think about it, won’t think about it, except she _is_ thinking about it and it’s awful.

When she reaches Tony’s workshop, the door immediately swings open courtesy of J.A.R.V.I.S., and Darcy grabs the old arc reactor. She stuffs it in her bag and darts back upstairs. 

Phil is waiting for her, holding out a helmet for her, already on the motorcycle.

Darcy jams it on her head and gets on the bike, and then she is treated to the wildest ride through downtown New York of her _life_ , and she’s gone on joyrides with Steve, Clint, _and_ Tony, so that’s really saying something.

Phil tears through traffic, not hesitating to weave around stopped cars and through red lights, and Darcy counts eight separate times that they nearly die, but she doesn’t complain because the sooner they’re on site at the battle the better. (And isn’t that just something, that she’s dying to get to a battlefield involving frost giants from Jotunheim, when she should be running in the opposite direction.)

*         *         *

Tony opens his eyes, and _that’s_ certainly a relief.

There’s something trickling down his forehead (it’s definitely blood), and it hurts immeasurably to breathe, and he feels weak and clammy and terrible and-

He glances down at his arc reactor, and it is flickering. There’s a crack running down the middle, and well, that’s not good.

Nothing exactly to be done at the moment, though, so he examines his situation and surroundings. 

Clint is underneath him, and for one terrible moment Tony think’s he’s not breathing, but just then the suit powers back up and J.A.R.V.I.S. assures him that Clint is still alive but unconscious. 

There’s concrete pressing down on Tony’s legs and back, and he takes a moment to be grateful for the suit.

“Hey, team?” Tony says, voice cracking from disuse.

“Tony!” Steve says, sounding relieved. “Is Clint okay?”

“Alive,” Tony says. “But maybe he’d be better if he wasn’t buried under a building. So, do something about that, Cap?”

Tony can hear the smile in Steve’s voice as he says, “Working on it, Tony. Give us a bit.”

“Also,” Tony says, “Can we develop a sense of urgency? Is Bruce there? Let me talk to Bruce.”

There are some muffled noises as Steve presumably gives Bruce his comm unit since the Hulk doesn’t wear one.

“Tony?” Bruce says, and his voice is tired but warm.

“Hey, Brucey,” Tony says. “You know where I keep my spares?”

Bruce snaps to attention, his voice sharp. “Yes.” There’s no need to ask what Tony is talking about.

“I may need one.”

*          *          *

Phil pulls onto the scene and gets off the bike calmly, unflustered and unruffled, almost as if _he didn’t just speed through downtown New York with complete disregard for traffic laws_.

Darcy sort of resents him, because when she dismounts, her legs are shaking and her hair is a mess from the helmet. 

She sees Bruce, sitting on the edge of a curb, brow furrowed and a blanket around his shoulders.

“Bruce,” she says, running to him.

“Darcy,” he says, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“We saw the building go down, and Phil didn’t trust Levine to get them out properly, and it’s not like I was going to just sit around at the tower just _waiting_ for you all to get home. Are Clint and Tony... They’re okay, right?”

“Alive,” Bruce reassures her.

It feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest. “Thank God,” she breathes.

“Um,” Bruce says, “On a scale of one to ten, how comfortable do you feel about taking the bike back to the tower?”

Darcy considers. “Six and a half. Why?”

“Tony needs a spare.”

Darcy gives him a blinding grin, and Bruce wonders why, until she gives him a peek into her messenger bag. An extra arc reactor is sitting in it.

“You’re the best,” Bruce says sincerely.

“I am,” Darcy says, “But it was Phil’s idea.”

“Phil is also the best,” Bruce says, heartfelt. 

*          *          *

When Phil reaches the rubble that was once a thirteen story building, he finds Thor and Steve shifting blocks of concrete urgently. There are other rescue crew members onsite, of course, but none are working at their pace.

Levine is standing in front, barking orders. The crew is obeying them, but Thor and Steve are calmly ignoring their handler.

When he sees Phil, his eyes widen for a moment, then turn cold. “You’re not supposed to be here, Coulson.”

Thor and Steve both stop working to look at Phil.

“Son of Coul!” Thor says, “You have been missed.”

“Verily,” Steve says wryly before returning to the job at hand.

To Phil’s credit, he keeps a straight face. 

Levine doesn’t fare so well. He scowls, and says, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” Phil says mildly. “Because there’s a job to be done and you _haven’t done it yet_.”

“I’m doing it,” Levine says.

“Not well enough,” Phil says, and if there is a little contempt in his voice, nobody calls him out for it. “Captain, if you two keep moving concrete from there, it’ll put too much pressure on _that_ area.”

Steve sees the problem immediately and waves a hand in acknowledgement, moving to a different area. Thor remains where they were, and they both continue moving concrete and plaster with occasional directions from Phil.

*          *          *

Tony shifts uncomfortably.

It’s not that he’s claustrophobic, and Clint certainly isn’t (and even if he was, he’s still unconscious), but there’s something to be said for the discomfort of being buried underneath a building.

All in all, not in Tony’s top ten most pleasant experiences.

Sadly, not in his top ten most unpleasant experiences either.

But the fact remains that it’s been nearly three hours, and he’s feeling lightheaded and ill and cold, and some ribs are definitely broken, and he’s worried that Clint hasn’t so much as stirred yet.

“How’s it going out there?” he says.

“Almost,” Steve says. “Another half an hour.”

“Okay,” Tony says, not feeling well enough to say anything else. “Okay.”

Tony closes his eyes and concentrates on breathing.

It takes far too long before Tony hears shifting around him and gets hit in the face with plaster and small chunks of concrete.

He instinctively slides his faceplate back down into position and curls protectively over Clint, and when light comes streaming through a hole, followed by a concerned Natasha, Tony flips his faceplate back up, grins at her, says, "About time," and promptly passes out.


	4. Darcy Gets Some Small Revenge (But Has More Planned)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's alive, slightly to his surprise. So is Clint, but that doesn't mean Phil's happy about what happened. 
> 
> Also, Darcy puts her taser to good use. The team approves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Again, life. 
> 
> Also, sorry this chapter is a tad shorter than the others. The next one is going to be a whammy though. Get ready for some shit to go down, because Fury is a manipulative bastard and Coulson has morals and his loyalties seem to lie with the Avengers these days and maybe, just maybe, there is a job lying ahead that only Coulson can handle with any sort of competence.
> 
> Also, there's a moment where Darcy pretends that Levine sexy harasses her before she tases him. No sexual harassment or assault occurs, but it's worth mentioning.

Tony opens his eyes to the sight of a very worried Bruce Banner. 

“Did I do it right?” Bruce says anxiously. “I think I did, but I’m not positive.”

Tony blinks several times and pokes at the IV in his arm.

“Don’t,” Bruce says, looking at him disapprovingly.

Tony leaves the needle alone and examines the arc reactor with deft fingers. It’s an old one, and it’s definitely hooked up correctly because he’s, you know, alive. Which puts Bruce in the very short list of people who have successfully replaced an arc reactor (it consists of himself and Pepper). It might have bothered him, once upon a time, having someone fiddling with the arc reactor while he’s so vulnerable, but things have changed and this is _Bruce_ , so he figures he’s okay with it. He looks at Bruce with a strange mix of gratitude and awe. “No, you did good. It’s fine. Thanks.”

Bruce’s face softens. “We were worried.”

“So you _do_ love me,” Tony says, working up the energy to flash a grin.

Then everything comes back to him, Levine and the frost giants and the building and Clint, and maybe Bruce sees the onset of anger and worry in his eyes, because he says, “You saved his life.”

Tony says, “Is he okay?”

Bruce nods. “Going to be. He’s in a medically induced coma because his body needs rest. Concussion, internal bleeding, four broken ribs, two more cracked, broken left fibula, left wrist badly bruised. But everything should heal fine.”

Tony’s eyes darken. “He should have abandoned his post,” he says. “We all _knew_ the building was going to fall.”

“Phil isn’t happy,” Bruce says.

“No,” Tony agrees. “I wouldn’t expect him to be.”

*          *          *

It’s hard, sometimes, seeing people you care about lying on a hospital bed, pale and drawn and hooked up to machines and IV’s and breathing tubes. 

Lately, it’s been happening more often than Darcy would like.

Clint is still, unnaturally so. And it’s not the way he goes sniper-still, body precisely controlled. This way, the unconscious-on-a-gurney-way, his body is unmoving, heavy, it makes him look vulnerable. He looks small and innocent and _terrible_ , and it’s Levine’s fault.

Darcy is pretty pissed, but she has nothing on Phil right now, who is pacing by Clint’s bed, face blank and eyes closed. His movements are precise and controlled, and Darcy would hate to be the person he’s angry at.

The hospital room seems altogether too small with all of them in the room, even with Darcy curled up in a chair in the corner, because Thor fills every room he’s in, and Steve is larger than life, and it’s a little strange but the way Natasha is standing at the doorway makes her seem much larger than she actually is. 

All in all, with Phil moving in tight circles around the room and Steve occasionally getting up to release pent up energy, the room feels like it’s about to explode at the seams.

When Levine walks in, it nearly does. 

Darcy dives for Thor as he gets to his feet, because she hates Levine, she really does, but she doesn’t think it’d be the best policy to have him flattened by a magical hammer. To her relief, Thor notices her clinging to his arm and sets down Mjolnir, looking a tad confused to find Darcy practically climbing him like a tree.

When she’s sure Thor isn’t going to attack, she takes a look around the room to see what’s going on with everyone else and finds an _interesting_ tableau.

Steve has an arm hooked around Natasha’s waist, and if it was anyone but Steve, Natasha probably would have snapped their wrist. But it _is_ Steve, and she has a sort of fondness for Steve, so she’s just standing stock-still, tension running along the length of her body.

And Phil is nearly quivering with rage as he turns to face Levine and says, “Get out of this room.”

It is utterly silent. 

Darcy finds that she’s holding her breath.

Levine says, “I’m checking up on an agent of mine, Coulson. It’s within my rights.”

“You neglected those rights when you ordered Agent Barton to remain in an unstable position, whether it was through malice or incompetence.” Phil’s words are quiet, almost pleasant. But his eyes are hard.

And _oh_ , Darcy has _never_ seen Phil this angry.

She’s seen him upset, or worried, or annoyed. But this controlled fury, simmering under the surface, this is new to her.

This is Phil Coulson at his most dangerous, because this is Phil Coulson when he’s protecting one of his own. And more importantly, this is Phil Coulson when Clint has been hurt unnecessarily. 

And if the look in Phil’s eyes is anything to go off of, Agent Levine ought to take the hint and hightail it out of the already-overcrowded hospital room.

But of course, Darcy thinks a little bitterly, Levine is a pompous ass, and has some alpha male complex, and is actually staring Phil down.

And because Darcy’s a little bit crazy and not opposed to filing some extra paperwork here and there, and because she thinks it won’t be good for Phil’s career for him to kill a fellow agent, she gets up, makes to brush by Levine, deliberately bumps into him, and lets out an outraged gasp.

“ _Did you just fondle my boobs_?!”

The sudden silence in the room is hilarious, and Darcy pushes back the urge to laugh.

Levine looks genuinely flustered. “Um,” he says, “No, I swear, I didn’t-”

“That’s sexual harassment,” Darcy says angrily.

His jaw drops. “No, I mean, you bumped into me, I didn’t-”

“You fucking asshole,” Darcy says, meaning every word. Then she pulls her newest taser out and zaps him.

Levine collapses, unconscious and twitching. Darcy steps back, examining her work. 

Thor gapes before clapping a hand on her shoulder. Natasha smirks. Steve’s jaw _actually_ drops, and, okay, Steve has got to be the cutest thing in existence. Phil’s expression stays the same, but his shoulders relax ever so slightly, and Darcy’s sure she isn’t imagining the glint of approval in his eyes.

A nurse steps into the room and trips over Levine’s prone body and looks at Darcy, who’s still holding the taser. “What on _earth_ ,” she begins.

Darcy cuts her off calmly. See, Phil? She can be cool and collected too. “Self defense,” she explains. “They’ll all vouch for me. _Captain America_ will vouch for me.”

She looks pointedly to Steve, who still has an adorable stunned look on his face. He nods in agreement, not appearing to trust his voice.

“Hmm,” the nurse says, and to her credit, doesn’t even bat an eye. “Can we get a stretcher over here? Male, mid-thirties, electrocuted, should be fine, but keep overnight for observation.”

Some orderlies come to the room and lift Levine onto a stretcher and wheel him out. Darcy resists her desire to spit on him.

The nurse takes some readings off of the machines Clint is hooked up to, ignoring the room’s tense occupants. She does her work quickly and efficiently, and leaves with a simple, “He should be ready to be woken up the day after tomorrow. Saturday, latest.”

“Calm in a crisis, that one,” Darcy says. “I like her.”

“The Lady Darcy is indeed a valiant shieldmaiden,” Thor says in awe.

“I agree wholeheartedly with Thor,” Natasha says.

Steve nods and says, “I bet it felt good,” and his voice is dark.

Darcy grins. “It did,” she admits. 

*          *          *

Phil catches her later in the hallway, while she is in transition between Tony’s room and Clint’s and while he is going for a cup of terrible hospital coffee.

“You did that for me,” he says, and it isn’t a question.

Darcy doesn’t see any point in denying it. “Yeah,” she says nonchalantly. “He’ll get his just desserts from you, but you looked like you were about half a second away from murdering the guy in front of witnesses, which is _never_ the way to go about homicide of any sort, so I figured I’d step in.”

“Funny way to step in,” Phil says, a tired smile tugging at his lips.

She shrugs. “Ball’s in your court now,” she says. 

*          *          *

Phil is there when Clint wakes up, nearly a week after he was crushed by a building. 

He sees the confusion in Clint’s eyes and sets a hand on his wrist when Clint goes to rip the IV out of his arm. “Leave it there, Barton,” he says. “You still need that.”

“I need a fucking drink,” Clint growls, and it’s all Phil can do to restrain from kissing him.

“Maybe later,” Phil says. “I don’t think you should mix alcohol with the kind of painkillers you’re on.”

“Hmm,” Clint muses, “I really don’t feel anything.”

“The good drugs,” Phil says.

“The good drugs,” Clint agrees.

There is a pleasant silence in the room. Then Clint says, “How long was I out?”

Phil says, “Five days and eighteen hours.” He doesn’t mention how absolutely shitty those five days and eighteen hours were, but he doesn’t need to. Clint knows from the weary set of his shoulders and the slight twist of his mouth.

“Tony?”

“So you remember,” Phil says. “We weren’t sure if you would.”

“Of course I remember,” Clint says, a little peevishly. “I’ve been hit harder on the head than that, and let me tell you, four hundred plus pounds of a metal suit flying at you is _not_ something you just forget.”

Tony bursts into the room, because Tony has impeccable timing. “Do I hear you _complaining_ that I saved your life?”

Tony’s on ridiculous crutches that do everything but fly. He’d made them after about half a day on regular crutches.

As Tony makes his way to Clint’s bed, Phil leans back in his chair. He expects that the others won’t be far behind Tony.

Sure enough, a somewhat frazzled Darcy comes through the door holding some pills and a water bottle for Tony, followed by Natasha and Steve. 

When they see that Clint is awake, they converge onto the bed, Darcy texting Bruce and Thor to get their asses into Clint’s room.

Satisfied that Clint is going to be well looked after for the time being, Phil slips silently out of the room. He catches Natasha’s eye before he leaves. 

He glances at Clint, surrounded by his teammates. _Don’t let him get out of bed_ , he mouths at Natasha.

She nods once. 

Darcy, who has a weird sixth sense for knowing where her friends are at all times, turns and looks at Phil right as he’s passing through the doorway. She smirks. 

Phil doesn’t smirk back, but he does offer her a raised eyebrow. Then he really does leave the room and heads grimly to headquarters.

He needs to have a word with Fury

 


	5. Phil Is Really Tired of Cryogenics and the Avengers Are Fighting A Battle on Two Fronts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil already has a defrosted supersoldier in his life. He doesn't need another one. But of course, that's the way his life goes. 
> 
> In the meantime, Darcy is left to deal with yet another crisis, because who gave Levine the right to kick Tony and Clint off the team?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the update took a while! It's move-in week and I've been a little preoccupied with that. Hope you enjoy, though! (:

Nick doesn’t look surprised to see him. In fact, he looks somewhat satisfied.

“You’re late,” he has the audacity to say.

Phil is almost speechless, but manages to snap, “I’m _late_ because I’ve been waiting for one of my team members to regain consciousness after a building fell on top of him.”

There’s a hint of sympathy in Nick’s voice when he says, “Agent Barton is alive and will come to no permanent damage from this incident.”

Which is true, but that doesn’t mean Phil wasn’t out of his mind worrying during the entire time Clint was unconscious.

“I want Levine gone,” Phil says tightly. “I don’t care who you get to replace him. He has to go.”

Nick starts to say something, but Phil cuts him off. “It doesn’t even have to be me. I don’t have to be their liaison and handler, but Levine absolutely cannot be.”

“We have bigger issues to worry about,” Nick says sharply.

Phil knew coming in that talking to Nick is sometimes like butting his head against the wall, but this is ridiculous. “Excuse me?” he says.

Nick stands abruptly. “Follow me, Agent Coulson,” he says in his I’m-the-fucking-director-of-S.H.I.E.L.D. voice. It’s the voice that means he isn’t messing around, the voice that means there is some sort of situation that needs to be dealt with at all possible speed. 

Phil is pretty sure that the last time he heard this voice was the day that he got stabbed in the back (literally) by Loki.

So he shuts his mouth and follows Nick.

They go underground, which is faintly worrisome. Then they go _underneath_ the underground levels, to the part of headquarters that doesn’t technically exist to anyone below Nick’s clearance level, and that is definitely worrisome.

“Director Fury,” he says. “Care to shed some light upon this?”

“The reason I finally capitulated on you being removed from the Avengers team,” Nick says grimly, “Is because I needed you for something else.”

_At the risk of the team_ , Phil thinks, but doesn’t say it out loud, because he senses there’s something very big going on here, and he’s obviously meant to be the one to deal with it.

“Agent Coulson,” Nick says, “What you are about to see does not leave this room. You will not speak of it to anyone. You will not _think_ about this around other people. And you absolutely will not share this with the Avengers or anyone involved.”

And no, that isn’t going to work for Phil, because the last time he’d been in on one of Nick’s plans, yeah, he himself had initiated it, but it had involved too many lies and too much pain for everyone involved.

“With all due respect, Director,” Phil says firmly, “I’ll be discreet, but only up to a certain point. If I feel that there is a need for the Avengers to know, then I will tell them. So if you’d rather not involve me in this project, I understand.”

Nick scowls at him, but Phil knows that he never really expected Phil to keep secrets from the team. The barely-there shrug that Nick gives says as much.

“You’re the only person I trust not to fuck this up,” Nick says bluntly. “So don’t.”

Phil nods curtly.

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting behind this last security check, but it certainly isn’t a sterile white room containing a dark-haired man with a metal arm. 

“ _Jesus_ , Nick,” Phil says. “The Winter Soldier? How long have you had him?”

“A month,” Nick says.

Phil examines the Winter Soldier the same way he’d assess Clint or Natasha after a mission. The way Barnes is sitting (motionless, shoulders tense, head in his hands) doesn’t bode particularly well. 

“Have we been communicating with him?” 

Nick nods. “We brought in Xavier at the beginning, and then the first two weeks we had him in custody was spent on interrogation. The past two we’ve had him talk to some of our psych staff. He’s not overtly hostile, but not cooperative either.”

“The cuff on his arm,” Phil says. “What does it do?” There’s a thick metal band encircling Barnes’ flesh-and-blood arm. A light flashes on it every few seconds.

“I’ll leave you to discuss this with the medical team and the security staff,” Nick says. “Good luck.” He strides away.

Phil is aware that Nick hadn’t answered his last question. It means he probably isn’t going to like the answer.

He looks around for a surveillance camera and finds one almost directly above him in the corner. He faces it and mouths clearly, _I want to talk go in_.

Not even thirty seconds later, a woman walks towards him, presumably coming from one of the rooms he and Nick passed on their way to Barnes’ cell. She is tall and dark-haired with streaks of grey running through.

“Agent Coulson, I presume?” Her voice is crisp and not unpleasant, but not exactly friendly either. She gives off an air of competence.

Phil nods. She’s not S.H.I.E.L.D., because all agents wear their badges visibly somewhere on their uniform when they’re at headquarters, and because there’s no eagle insignia anywhere on her person. 

“I’m Agent Rebecca Tanner. I’m in charge of the hostile, and I’d like to advise that you don’t enter his room.”

C.I.A., Phil thinks briefly. He’ll ask Tony to check later. “Agent Tanner,” he says, “I assure you that I’m capable of holding a short conversation with Barnes.” His use of Barnes’ name is deliberate, because Phil doesn’t need people thinking of him as an object, especially if he’s right about what Fury wants with him, and it’s easier to think of a prisoner as a person when you refer to him by his name.

“In any case,” he adds darkly, “I don’t think I’m mistaken in thinking that the cuff is a correctional device of some kind?” 

Agent Tanner eyes him shrewdly. “No,” she says. “You’re not mistaken.”

Phil looks at her mildly, as if to say, _Well, then_.

“Agent Coulson,” she says. “May I speak plainly with you?”

“Yes,” Phil says simply.

“Then,” she says, “I’ve been away from Langley for over a month to keep an eye on this operative. Fury wants to sweep him away from us and put him into his little pet group. Don’t pretend it’s not true. And frankly, Agent Coulson, that isn’t going to happen this time. The Winter Soldier is to be tried for his crimes when we see fit, and then we’ll see what happens to him after that. Nicholas Fury and the entirety of S.H.I.E.L.D. will not be able to prevent this. He is in our custody and will remain so. The only reason he is being held in your facility is because it has the highest security in the world.”

Phil gives himself a mental gold star for guessing C.I.A. correctly and just looks at her levelly, because while he appreciates her directness, there’s no point in getting into a pissing contest at this point. Right now, it’s important to see where Barnes is mentally and emotionally, if he is _himself_ , if he even remembers who he is. So he says, “Duly noted, Agent Tanner. I’d like to speak to Barnes now.”

She walks over to the cell door. “Here,” she says, gesturing to a panel. “You have visitation rights. Retinal check, voice match, and a full hand scan. You’ll need to also set a series of passwords that only you will know. Every time you go in, you’ll set a different code word that will allow you to leave the cell. When you want to leave, place your hand flat on the door and say the code word and the door will open. There will be security cameras recording at all times. If, at any point, we feel that the hostile presents a threat, we will activate the cuff.”

“Understood,” Phil says. The protocols are a bit much, but he understands that the higher-ups from the C.I.A. may find them necessary. He approaches the panel and glances back. “Thank you, Agent Tanner,” he says, a clear dismissal.

She recognizes it as such, and nods before walking briskly away.

Then Phil allows the retinal and hand scan, and verifies his name and rank number for the voice check. He sets his series of passwords (cfrancisb, budapest07, stbcnt12) and his exit word for the visit (dodgers).

The cell door slides open, and Barnes lifts his head to look at Phil. _Christ_ , Phil thinks, because Barnes has the unmistakable look of someone who’s under duress and miserable and tired and a little confused and just wants to rest.

It strikes a bit of a chord within Phil because he’s seen Natasha like this, seen _Clint_ like this.

He steps into the room, and the door slides shut behind him.

“What, not scared I’m going to snap and kill you? Or did they not tell you the usual procedure?” Barnes speaks first, voice hoarse from disuse.

“I don’t think you’re going to kill me,” Phil says. “But out of curiosity, what _is_ the usual procedure?”

He seats himself, back against the door and hands flat on the floor, making himself as unassuming and nonthreatening as possible. 

Barnes tilts his head, looking puzzled. He holds up his right arm. “They zap me with this,” he says, “and put me in restraints before they relax.”

_Fucking incompetent C.I.A._ , Phil thinks viciously. And then, because he’s fair-minded, _fucking incompetent S.H.I.E.L.D. staff_.

“We’ll try and avoid doing that from now on,” Phil says.

“Good to hear,” Barnes says drily, and sounds so much like Steve (who’s surprisingly sarcastic for being America’s sweetheart) that Phil almost grins at him.

“I’m Phillip Coulson,” Phil says.

“Sergeant James Barnes,” Barnes says, “But people call me Bucky.”

And Phil is inordinately pleased by this, because it means Barnes remembers who he was before the Russians got a hold of him. In fact, he’s a little worried that Barnes doesn’t, in fact, remember what he did as the Winter Soldier. 

“How long has it been since you slept, Sergeant?” Phil asks, switching tacks abruptly, because he works with _Tony Stark_ , he knows the look of a man who’s deprived himself of sleep for too long.

Barnes’ eyes flicker a little. “Don’t know,” he says reluctantly. “Ever since... I don’t sleep well when...” He gestures vaguely, and Phil’s read Barnes’ file and he knows that HYDRA had Barnes in captivity for a while and subjected him to some experimentation.

“Would it help if I was in here?” Phil isn’t sure that it will, because there’s no reason for Barnes to trust him, but it doesn’t hurt to offer.

Barnes studies him warily. “It might,” he says. He does look tired. 

“Okay,” Phil says, and turns his back to Barnes, facing the door. “Then sleep.”

He doesn’t look back, but after a moment, he hears the rustling of sheets as Barnes settles in, and then shortly after, Barnes’ breathing evens out.

Phil takes advantage of the quiet to consider his current situation. Steve has to find out, and so does Natasha, although he isn’t sure if Barnes will remember her. Maybe he’ll try and tip Tony off. Scenarios running through his head, it takes him a second to realize that none of their problems are fixed- Nick hadn’t agreed to remove Levine, he still isn’t reinstated as the Avengers liaison and handler, Clint is laid up for at least another six weeks, Tony for at least four, and now he has to figure out a way to snatch Barnes away from underneath the C.I.A.’s noses. After this one, he is going to take a long-earned vacation, Phil thinks wearily, but isn’t quite foolish enough to believe himself.

*          *          *

Darcy is sitting with Bruce in the lab. Or, to be completely accurate, she’s sitting on a bench with a mug of steaming coffee, periodically sending Phil texts (because he should be back by now) while Bruce scribbles equations on his StarkPad and graphs odd lines on the computer. It’s peaceful, and it’s become a sort of routine, and no, Darcy isn’t quite sure what’s going on between the two of them, but she’s pretty sure she likes it.

“And then,” she says, snorting, “I accused him of grabbing my boobs and tased him.”

Bruce laughs, which means she and Tony have wholly corrupted him. A month ago, he would have looked faintly amused but mostly appalled. 

“I can’t believe you haven’t been arrested,” Bruce says.

“Well,” Darcy says thoughtfully, “There was that one time in high school, but I’m pretty sure it didn’t go on my permanent record.”

Bruce looks torn between curiosity and horror. Before he can ask, though, his StarkPad and computer both make a pinging noise.

“Email?” Darcy asks.

Bruce nods. “Mhmm,” he says absently as he pulls up the email in question. 

Darcy watches him as he reads and pales. When he turns to look at her, his irises are shot through with green. He shoves the tablet at her and waits. 

It’s on the encrypted S.H.I.E.L.D. email, and it’s from Levine to all of the Avengers. Darcy reads, and gets angrier with each word. “Fucking _hell_ ,” she says when she finishes, and shoots one final message to Phil.

“Go tell Tony,” Bruce says.

“He probably already knows,” Darcy points out.

“No,” Bruce says, “If he had seen it he’d already be at Levine’s door. Or Fury’s at the very least. I can’t believe he’s allowing this.”

“Fury _has_ to have an endgame,” Darcy says. “There’s no way Levine has this much authority otherwise.”

“ _I_ for one,” Bruce says, “am sick and tired of being manipulated like puppets on strings at Fury’s whim.”

Darcy narrows her eyes. “I think I’ll have a talk with Fury,” she says, because Director Fury doesn’t scare her. He’s oddly fond of her, actually, and she knows how to work this fact to her advantage.

*          *          *

Tony is moping around in the living room- being on crutches, even technologically advanced ones like the prototypes he’s using sucks- when a fuming Darcy Lewis storms in.

“Can I borrow a car?” she says. “I need to talk to the fucking Director.”

Normally, Tony would say yes without a second thought, because Darcy loves his cars nearly as much as he does, and she always returns them in perfect condition. Today, though, Darcy’s eyes are steel and her arms are crossed and everything about her says _pissed_ and Tony isn’t actually sure that she’s in any condition to be driving. She’d be fine, he figures, but the pedestrians of New York would certainly not appreciate being knocked aside by his car, no matter how beautiful it may be.

“Um,” he says, and Darcy interrupts him, “Tony, do I really look like I’m going to take no for an answer?”

He’s struck by how Pepper-esque that sounded and automatically capitulates. “Fine,” he says, “But what’s got your panties in such a twist?”

“It’s actually a bit on your behalf,” Darcy snaps. “Since your liaison has placed both you and Clint on indefinite suspension from the Avengers team on the grounds that you’re unstable and incapable of following orders and that Clint’s not fucking super enough.” She pauses. “Although that’s not exactly how he worded it.”

Tony’s speechless for a moment, and _that’s_ weird, because really, how often is Tony Stark speechless? But honestly, yeah, he gets that he has authority issues, but he listens to Steve most of the time, he really does. He even listens to Coulson most of the time. And his disobedience definitely saved Clint’s life this time around, and what was this shit about Clint not being super enough? Because _that’s_ a sore spot with the guy, Tony knows, and it’s unfounded, because how many _normal_ people can hit a moving target in the head with a fucking arrow while plummeting towards the ground from the Statue of Liberty’s torch?

He’s pretty certain the list begins and ends with Clint.

Before he can say anything though, he’s interrupted by Natasha’s voice from behind them. “Excuse me?”

Darcy rolls her eyes to heaven. “Doesn’t anyone check their email?”

Tony hurriedly pulls it up on his laptop, and Natasha reads over his shoulder. 

She growls something in Russian and stalks out of the room.

Darcy turns to leave, but Tony says, “Wait, where’s Coulson?”

Darcy stops, realizing it’s been hours since she’s last seen her very-capable boss. “He said he was going to headquarters,” she says. “And he hasn’t been back.”

Tony frowns. “That’s not like him,” he says. “He’d never stay away from Clint when he’s like this. Not without a reason.”

“Huh,” Darcy says thoughtfully. “And if he got called away on something he would have at least told us he’s on a mission.” The anger in her voice has seeped away to be replaced by faint puzzlement. “I’m heading over there right now,” she says. “I can try and find him, but...”

But as resourceful as Darcy is, there’s some places she just doesn’t have access to, and the headquarters are a sprawling collection of underground and aboveground rooms.

Tony, on the other hand, can’t be kept out. And since he’s stuck sitting with his leg in a cast, he may as well make himself useful. Besides, he thinks wryly, his biweekly S.H.I.E.L.D. hacking is long overdue. “I’ll let you know when I find him,” he tells Darcy, who grins at him. “And I’ll bring Steve and Thor up to speed.”

“Good,” she says, cold again. “But seriously, if Natasha was to get rid of him right now, I don’t think I could honestly say that I wouldn’t want her to.”

And with that note, Darcy sweeps out of the living room, and Tony sets J.A.R.V.I.S. to hacking into S.H.I.E.L.D. systems.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the story took a bit of an odd twist, but I promise there's a plan and honestly I couldn't keep Bucky from this 'verse any longer. I love him too much.


	6. Shit Hits the Proverbial Fan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy just wants Phil to answer his fucking phone. Phil finds out about Clint and Tony getting removed from the Initiative. The team finds out about Bucky. Steve isn't pleased.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So very sorry about the slow update! College gets into the way of writing sometimes... Hope you enjoy the update!
> 
> The next update may also be a tad slow, but fear not! It will come! (And it will feature some Clint/Phil heart-to-heart, a reunion between old friends, Darcy's unique problem-solving skills, and possibly a cameo from a familiar face.)

It’s actually beginning to shape out to be one of Phil’s better days, which is really pathetic if he thinks about it.

But despite being pissed at Fury, he has to admit that bringing him onto the Winter Soldier detail was the right decision. And this? Waiting out a possible asset while they figured out what they wanted to do? This is something Phil is used to, something he’s good at.

In his time he’s managed to gain the trust of Clint and Natasha, which is no small feat, not to mention the rest of the Avengers. And a man with a metal arm actually sort of fits the bill of what constitutes in Phil’s life as normal, which is either very worrying or, well, it’s just a bit worrying.

And of course, Phil thinks grimly, he should never dream of getting complacent with his life, because just as he is thinking that today is not such a bad day, he hears Barnes startles awake and lunge to his feet behind him.

Phil freezes, because the last thing he wants to do is alarm the man further. “Barnes,” he says in the voice he uses with Clint after he wakes up from a nightmare. “You’re fine,” he continues. “I’m going to turn around now, is that okay?”

There’s only a pained noise from Barnes, and Phil whips around to see the cuff around his arm blinking rapidly and Barnes on his knees, curling into himself.

“ _No,_ ” Phil says sharply, turning to face the camera. He knows that the guards in the control room are watching him. “ _Stop. Kill the electrical impulses. Now._ ”

The cuff keeps blinking.

Phil glances at Barnes, who hasn’t risen. He’s rocking gently, back and forth, on his knees.

He glares again at the camera, but there is no response. “He wasn’t attacking me,” Phil says clearly, enunciating carefully. “Hit the kill switch on the cuff.”

Nothing.

Fine, then, Phil thinks. If they won’t kill the cuff, he will.

“Barnes,” he says, “Let me see the cuff.”

The other man drags his arm forward, and Phil examines it, finds the remote receptor, and sticks one of Tony’s impulse jammers onto it. The jammers are meant for bombs, but Phil’s found that they’re extremely useful in blocking all sorts of communication and has taken to carrying a few around with him.

The effect is immediate. The light stops flashing, and Barnes exhales tightly in controlled relief.

Not thirty seconds later, the cell door opens and a security detail barges in.

Phil places himself between them and Barnes, arms crossed, and says, more calmly than he feels, “Get out. It’s under control.”

“Agent Coulson,” one of the guards says, “It’s against protocol to-”

Phil shakes his head. “Sometimes,” he says, “I’m forced to break protocol in order to compensate for incompetence in others. Now get out. You’re damaging relations with Barnes.”

The guard looks like he’s going to protest again, but Phil cuts him off before he can speak. “I need you to leave. Maybe next time, if you listen to me when I tell you to hit the kill switch, you’ll do it before I have to tamper with your tech.”

The men turn around and file back out. The door closes behind them, and Phil turns back to Barnes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I should have jammed it sooner.”

“How long do I have to stay here?” Barnes’ voice is weary, and he won’t look Phil in the eye.

Phil curses inwardly, because any rapport he’d established has clearly been lost.

“Let me see what I can do,” Phil says honestly.

Barnes nods, still looking at the floor.

“I’ll be back,” Phil says.

There is no response.

Against his better judgement, he adds, “Maybe with an old friend of yours.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he winces a little, because there’s no guarantee that he’ll be able to get Steve down here, but it’s the right thing to say because Barnes’ full attention is on him.

“Old friend?” Barnes looks hopeful. “They said Steve-”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Phil repeats. He offers his hand to Barnes, and Barnes shakes it with a shadow of  a smile.

As soon as he leaves the cell, Phil goes for his phone and calls Nick.

“Coulson,” Nick says, sounding not at all surprised to hear from him, and also sounding a little distracted.

“Get Sitwell in the guardroom,” Phil says sharply. “I don’t care what you have to do. If you want me handling this thing, I need one of ours in the guardroom. Someone who trusts my judgement and won’t overrule me.”

“Fine,” Nick says. “I’ll arrange it. You brief him.”

“Thank you,” Phil says before he hangs up, because he’s always had good manners.

Then he notices that he has eight text messages, five missed calls, and three voicemails. A sense of foreboding falls over him as he listens to the voicemails.

“ _Phil, it’s Darcy. Where the hell are you? Having a minor crisis here. Call back when you get this._ ”

“ _Phil, seriously. What the fuck. You always answer your phone. And the one time I actually need you to pick up, you’re not picking up. The world conspires against me. Call me back._ ”

“ _Phil, it’s Darcy. Again. Pick up your damned phone and call me back. Wait. Are you okay? Have you been abducted or something? Tony’s looking for you. Anyway. Call me back._ ”

Phil scans the text messages, which are all variations of “Where the hell are you, we need you,” in increasing amounts of urgency from Darcy, Natasha, Bruce, and Tony.

Stomach sinking, he calls Darcy back. She picks up at once, says, “Call Bruce or Tony. I’m in a meeting with the Director right now,” and hangs up.

Well. He calls Tony, who says, “Jesus, Phil, the _Winter Soldier_? Are you _trying_ to tear Steve’s heart out?” at the same time as Phil says, “What is going on with you people?”

There’s a moment as each digests what the other has said.

Phil offers, “I just found out a few hours ago. Been trying to undo C.I.A. and S.H.I.E.L.D. fuck-ups.”

There’s a pause. “Okay,” Tony says. “Levine kicked me and Clint off the team. Clint doesn’t know yet, but Darcy went to go tear into Fury about an hour ago and Steve just left to join her.”

“ _What_?”

“Come back home,” Tony offers, “Because I’m not going to be the one to tell Clint.”

Phil hesitates, because he really wants to give Nick a piece of his mind over this, but he ought to go to Clint.

Something occurs to him. “Where’s Natasha?”

Tony says, “We don’t know, exactly. It’s a bit concerning, really.” He doesn’t sound concerned in the slightest.

“Okay,” Phil says, making a decision. “I’m coming back to the tower.” Darcy and Steve are perfectly capable of handling Nick.

“Good,” Tony says, “Since Happy is waiting for you. See you soon. Also, don’t think we’re not going to have a long conversation about Sergeant Barnes, there. It’s just been slightly postponed.”

“Fair enough,” Phil says, and hangs up.

This is why he should never, ever, under any circumstances, believe that he’s actually having a good day.

*          *          *

“This is _bullshit_ ,” Darcy says again, glaring at Fury.

Fury glares back. “It’s out of my hands, Miss Lewis.”

“It _isn’t_ ,” she says. “You basically rule the world. You could assign the Avengers another liaison.”

“I assure you,” Fury says, “This is all for the best.”

She sees red for a second, and in retrospect, it’s good that Steve bursts into the room at that moment, because if he hadn’t, she might have done something very stupid (like punch Fury in the nose).

“I resign,” he says firmly.

Darcy stares at him, and not just because a flushed Steve is a sight to warm any girl’s, well. 

Fury just looks at him. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Steve says, blue eyes cold. “Take me off of your payroll.”

Which is news to Darcy, because she didn’t even know Steve was _on_ S.H.I.E.L.D. pay.

“Not a good decision, Captain.”

“With all due respect sir, however stupid my decision may be, it _is_ mine, and it _is_ final.”

“Are you absolutely sure about that, Captain? Because if you are, I couldn’t possibly let you in on our newest possible addition to the Avengers team.”

Darcy has a bad feeling about this, and call it intuition, or call it her-life-sucks, but she wishes she had maybe asked Phil what was going on with his end before she had hung up on him.

Steve looks confused. “The Parker kid? We agreed he was too young.”

“He’s cute,” Darcy blurts out, because staying quiet has never been her strong suit. 

Fury casts her a withering look. She shrugs. Texts Phil. _Something is about to happen here. What were you doing while you were gone?_

She pays little attention to Fury and Steve talking as she reads Phil’s long answer. Which turns out to be a mistake, because suddenly there’s a crash and Steve has pinned Fury to the wall with a hand to the throat. 

“Oh my God,” Darcy says, because she’s just finished reading the text, and also because Captain America has basically assaulted the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.

“Where?” Steve snarls, and for the first time, Darcy really sees how this gentle man with the shy smile and eye for art can also be the supersoldier who makes the tough calls and fights the impossible battles.

•          •          •

Phil reads the steady stream of texts from Darcy even as Happy speeds through the streets.

_This is about to be bad._

_Oh, I lied. It’s already bad._

_Steve just pinned Fury to the wall. xD_

_Um. Can you come back?_

_Can you send Natasha?_

_Or Tony. I’d take Tony, too. Or both. Both is good._

_Now would be good._

Phil worries at his bottom lip with his teeth, which is a sign of anxiety that he thought he’d gotten rid of long ago.

To be fair, this day is shaping out to be fairly stressful.

He calls Natasha.

“ _I’m busy,_ ” she says. 

“We have bigger problems than Levine,” Phil says. “I’ll handle Clint. I need you to get to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Phil says quickly. “The Winter Soldier. You’ve had history with him, I know. He’s been recovered by the C.I.A., and they’re holding him underneath headquarters because S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities are state of the art. Steve found out.”

Natasha is silent.

“He doesn’t remember,” Phil says. “He doesn’t remember his Winter Soldier days. But he remembers the war, and he remembers Steve. I wouldn’t ask you to go if I didn’t have to, because the sight of you could trigger him. But you deserve to know.”

“ _Send Tony, too,_ ” she says, “ _I won’t show myself to James. I’ll be there to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D. and C.I.A. But Steve needs someone by him_.”

There’s a click as she hangs up, and while it’s not relief, exactly, Phil has to admit that he feels better with Natasha on the scene with Steve.

Happy pulls up to the tower, and Phil says, “Happy, would you mind keeping the car running? I need Tony to go to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Happy says, “Sure thing, Agent Coulson, but he’ll want to suit up.”

Phil says, “His leg is broken.”

Happy looks at him as if to say, _So what? It’s Tony Stark._

Phil concedes the point with a slight shrug and says, “I’ll have J.A.R.V.I.S. notify you if your services aren’t needed.”

Then he goes to find Tony, who is conveniently waiting for Phil at the elevator. “About time you got here,” Tony drawls.

“Go to S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Phil says without preamble. 

Tony gives him a strange look. “Steve and Darcy are already-”

“Steve found out about Barnes,” Phil says, “And I sent Natasha to do some damage control but I think he’ll need you.”

“Christ,” Tony says, “Can this week get any worse?”

“Don’t say that,” Phil says, sighing. “When people say that on TV, things always get worse. I don’t even want to risk it.”

“Right,” Tony agrees, “You’re absolutely right. No tempting fate from me. I’ll just be off then. Just gonna go get the suit-”

“Your leg is broken,” Phil protests.

“And?” Tony says. “Your point is?”

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Phil says, which is a stupid thing to say, he realizes, because Tony Stark has never _not_ pushed himself too hard in his life. He drinks more than he should, fights longer than he should, cares more than he should, works longer than is sane, and kept on going with a car battery basically powering his heart. Tony always pushes too hard.

Tony grins a patented Stark-shit-eating-grin and says, “I had Brucey help me make some modifications to compensate for the leg. Also, I’m on some mild painkillers. And I’ll even get Thor to come with me. I’ll be fine. It’s S.H.I.E.L.D. that had better watch out with Steve on the righteous warpath.”

“Don’t do anything too stupid,” Phil says, giving up. “And let Happy know you don’t need a ride.”

Tony is already crutching away, and acknowledges Phil with a wave. “Tell Thor to meet me at headquarters!” 

Phil sighs, and asks J.A.R.V.I.S. where Thor is.

“Thor is with Dr. Banner in Agent Barton’s room,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says, which surprises Phil. It pleases him, too, to know that the others are looking out for Clint when he and Natasha aren’t there.

He makes his way to Clint’s room and enters without knocking.

Thor and Bruce both turn to look at him. 

“Thor,” Phil says, “Tony requests your assistance. He’d like you to meet him at the S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities.”

“Of course, Son of Coul,” Thor says, obviously trying to keep his voice down.

Phil appreciates the effort.

Thor bids them farewell and goes on his way, leaving Bruce and Phil with a still-sleeping Clint.

“I gather you saw the email,” Bruce says, his quiet-voice considerably softer than Thor’s.

“Actually,” Phil says, “I haven’t. I’ve heard about it.”

“What does Tony need help with?” Bruce asks. “Is something wrong?”

Phil realizes that Bruce doesn’t know about Barnes, and says, “The abridged version of the story is that Steve’s friend James Barnes has turned out to be alive, and the Russians have been using him as an assassin on and off for decades, during which Natasha has met him, and now he’s in C.I.A. custody, but he doesn’t remember being an assassin. He only remembers the war and what happened before it. And Steve’s just found out that Barnes is alive and took exception to the fact that the Director hid it from him.”

Bruce gives him a pained look. “When did our lives start to play out like an overdone drama series on HBO or something?”

Phil shakes his head wearily. “Now that you mention it,” he says, “We could probably pitch a show and make millions.”

Then Clint stirs in his bed, and Bruce meets Phil’s eyes. “I’ll give you some time,” he says gently. 

Phil considers asking him to stay, but doesn’t. Because he has to tell Clint that Levine’s removed him from the Avengers, and Clint will be reeling from that- it hits too closely to old insecurities. Bruce shouldn’t be privy to Clint’s emotional state without Clint’s permission, so Phil doesn’t protest when Bruce slips out of the room. 

“I’ll be monitoring the situation at S.H.I.E.L.D. with J.A.R.V.I.S. if you need me,” Bruce says, and then he is gone.


	7. Ill-Advised Escape Plans Are What the Avengers Thrive On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets to Bucky. Darcy, Tony, and Thor are not far behind him. Also, Tony is getting very good at carrying passengers with his suit.
> 
> C.I.A. agents are apparently ill-equipped to deal with S.H.I.E.L.D. and unpredictable superheroes, although personally, Darcy finds them quite predictable indeed.

At this point, it isn’t Darcy’s first rodeo with a pissed off Avenger tearing through S.H.I.E.L.D. property. It is, however, her first time to see Steve absolutely lose control like this.

When he bolts from Fury’s office, Fury glares at her. “Well, go follow him, Lewis.”

So she does. She’s not nearly as fast as he is, of course, and he’s out of sight by the time she turns the corner, but he’s not exactly being subtle, leaving behind a trail of confused (or unconscious) agents. She sprints after him, mentally thanking Clint and Natasha for making her follow a strict training regimen, and isn’t stopped once.

She figures that Fury maybe made the call to leave the dark-haired girl following Captain America alone, and wonders halfheartedly if this means her security clearance has been bumped up.

She’s just beginning to feel like she’s a bit out of her depth as she tries to keep up with Steve, especially when she reaches the high-security elevator.

That’s when a red-and-gold blur arrives at her side, shortly followed by a puzzled but ready-for-trouble Thor. 

“Help,” Darcy says, a little plaintively, but seriously, cut her a break. It’s been a weird day, even for her.

“Well met, Darcy,” Thor says. “We shall endeavor to assist you and the Captain in any way possible.”

Tony flips the faceplate up, flashes her a grin, and says, “Well, we couldn’t let you have all the fun, could we?”

He gets to work on hacking the elevator’s control panel, talking all the while. “So, tell me how exactly this blew up, will you? I mean, I get that you guys were both kind-of-pissed because of the Levine thing, but how did that turn into Captain America punching Nick Fury in the face, because that is seriously aweso-Christ, how did Steve- did he seriously break into the parallel elevator shaft? This is actually ridiculous. I need to meet this Bucky guy. Just a few more-” he breaks off as the doors slide open.

“Got it,” Tony says unnecessarily. “Operation: Free Bucky is ago.”

Darcy looks at him in alarm. “Is that what this is?”

They step into the elevator, and Tony says, “Well, obviously, yes. You don’t think Steve is going to leave him in there, do you? And we’re going to have to help him.”

Darcy squeezes her eyes shut. “Most secure facility. In the world.”

“Pentagon Fiasco,” Tony retorts immediately.

“It’s a miracle the Avengers aren’t public enemy number one,” she says.

“Probably something to do with us saving the world every few weeks,” Tony says thoughtfully. “Also, Phil is very good with the PR thing. So are you,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Gee, thanks,” Darcy says. Then, “Jesus, how far down is this containment cell?”

Thor says, “I believe we have descended at least one and a half of your miles.”

“Of course,” Darcy says. She leans against the railing, and remembers suddenly that Tony is supposed to be benched with a broken leg. “Your leg!”

“Is fine,” Tony says, waving it around gingerly. She doesn’t miss the way his eyes tighten from the pain. “Steve needs us, he’s got us. Besides, why do you think I brought Thor? He’s the muscle for this one.”

Thor grins. “I have yet to find a substance that Mjolnir cannot break.” He thinks for a moment. “Besides the Captain’s shield.”

Darcy groans as she realizes that Steve doesn’t even have his shield with him. “He didn’t bring it,” she says. “He’s probably getting riddled with bullet holes right now.”

As if on cue, the elevator comes to a halt, and Tony says, “Let us go through first in case they shoot.”

Darcy growls, “They better not shoot.” But she lets Tony and Thor step in front of her, because Tony has a point.

They shouldn’t have worried, though, because when the doors slide open, Natasha is standing in front of them, arms crossed. “What took so long?” she says, sounding generally irritated. “Steve could use some back-up.”

“Why don’t you go help him, then?” Tony snaps.

Natasha glares. “I can’t. I’m keeping S.H.I.E.L.D. and the C.I.A. placated.” She hesitates. “Besides, I know Barnes from his Winter Soldier days, and Phil and I don’t know what memories it would trigger if he saw me.”

“Where is the Captain?” Thor asks. The corridor stretches both ways for what looks like miles, although Darcy is relatively sure it isn’t that big (but what does she know; she didn’t even know this underground part of the facility even existed).

Natasha points. “Hurry,” she says. She looks at them. “Also, I’ll cover you as much as I can, whatever you decide to do, but I _can’t_ be seen by Barnes.”

“Understood,” Tony says. He glances at Darcy. “Darce, maybe you should sit this one out-”

“Hell, no!” Darcy says indignantly. 

Tony shrugs. “So be it,” he says. 

Thor has already started down the hallway, and Tony and Darcy hurry to follow.

Tony is limping slightly now, and with his faceplate up Darcy can see the corners of his eyes tighten with every step he takes. 

Then he frowns, putting a hand up to his ear automatically. “ _Christ_ ,” he says, and takes to the air. “You two keep on coming,” he says to them. Then the faceplate slides into place, and Tony jets forward, leaving Thor and Darcy staring at each other..

Thor breaks into a sprint.

Darcy texts Phil. _Tony’s gonna need something stronger than Tylenol when we get back. Also, I don’t get paid enough for this shit._

*          *          *

Steve is, under normal circumstances, probably the most sensible member of the team. He’s their indisputable leader and moral compass. He may not be Tony-or-Bruce-smart, but he certainly gets by. He’s _not_ the one that makes rash decisions and breaks into high-security S.H.I.E.L.D. containment facilities.

Except that’s exactly what he’s doing.

He thinks that of everything Fury has done to him, this is maybe the worst, and this is what he’ll never be able to forgive Fury for.

Especially when he reaches the cell Bucky’s in, and he sees the blinking cuff and _is that a metal arm_ and Bucky’s shoulders are bowed, head hanging, and there’s a rush of rage, and then there are men dressed in black standing between him and the door. Pointing guns at him.

“Move,” Steve says coldly.

When Steve gets angry, he feels blank and cold. His anger is nothing like Tony’s, which is red-hot and made of fire and passion. His anger is ice, ice like the ground he was buried in for years and years before being brought back into the world.

Right now, he’s so angry he can barely think, and these men are standing between him and _Bucky_ , and he takes the time to wonder if this is how Bruce feels before he transforms.

“Captain,” one of the guards says, “I’m going to have to ask you to stand down.”

Steve nearly takes a page from Tony’s book, but restrains himself from replying _fuck you_ just in time. Instead, he says, “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Captain,” the guard says, “We have orders to shoot. You don’t have your shield or suit. We don’t want to have to hurt you.”

“Then shoot,” Steve says, “Because I’m going through that door.”

*          *          *

J.A.R.V.I.S. says, “Sir, the guards are threatening to shoot Captain Rogers. He is refusing to yield to them.”

“How far out are we?” Tony asks J.A.R.V.I.S.

“Approximately half a mile.”

“Fucking Christ,” Tony says out loud. “What part of _no shield_ does he fucking not understand?!”

Because really, Steve is an _idiot_ , and Tony’s not always going to be around to save his team’s asses, and obviously, he needs to look into making his suit even faster.

Also, he sends a text to Bruce, telling him to prepare a guest room on Steve’s floor. He’s willing to bet his entire company that they’re going to return home with one extra person today.

Then he puts all of his firepower into the repulsors in his feet and shoots himself forward, trusting that Thor will be right behind him, because if he’s honest with himself, he’s beginning to feel a little lightheaded and his leg is throbbing.

He sees the scene unfolding in front of him, rapidly taking in Steve standing in front of the guards, weaponless, as the guard in the front takes aim.

“Fucking _Christ_ ,” Tony says again, putting one last burst of energy into the repulsors.

*          *          *

The guard fires.

Steve braces for impact, because he’s been shot before, he’ll survive. It’s just a matter of dealing with the pain.

The pain never hits, because there’s a familiar noise and the clang of bullets hitting metal and a streak of red and gold and suddenly Iron Man is standing in front of Steve. “He may not have his suit,” Tony says, his voice distorted as always under the mask, “But I never leave home without it. And, you know, I’m not too big on the idea of letting Captain America be gunned down by incompetent, unthinking, glorified mall cops like you.”

“Director Fury-” the guard starts, but Tony cuts him off. 

“Director Fury has no say in this matter. Now get out of Captain Rogers’ way before I blast you aside.”

There’s a thudding noise, and Tony starts laughing. “Also, you’re about to meet a mythical, semi-sentient hammer, wielded by the god of thunder. I would get out of the Captain’s way.”

As he talks, Tony brings his left hand around his back. Steve stares for a moment, because he doesn’t understand what Tony’s trying to say, and then he notices that the glove and gauntlet are disengaging from Tony’s arm.

He automatically touches his left arm to Tony’s, and the glove and gauntlet transfer quickly to Steve. 

“Sorry,” Tony says over his shoulder. “Didn’t have time to bring the shield. That ought to get you through the door, though.”

“Thanks,” Steve says, meaning it.

“We’ve got your back, Cap,” Tony says, and his voice is steel.

*          *          *

“Well,” Clint says lightly, “It was bound to happen eventually.”

“Clint,” Phil says. Clint’s not quite making eye contact, using Tony’s trick of looking at the bridge of Phil’s nose instead of his eyes.

“It’s not permanent,” Phil says firmly. 

A quirk of the lips. “If I’m going to be a liability-”

“You aren’t. You’re never a liability.”

“Phil, I’m a guy with a bow. It’s not like-” He stops, as Phil looks down at his phone and curses.

“We will address your inability to see your own worth later. I need to get to headquarters.”

“Wait, why?”

Phil glances at Clint, realizing that he has no idea what’s going on. “Long story,” he says.

Clint narrows his eyes.

“But the Sparknotes version,” Phil says, “Is that Steve’s old friend Bucky survived his fall and became a KGB assassin through some brainwashing and now he’s in CIA custody in S.H.I.E.L.D. facilities and Steve found out, punched Fury, and barged into the most secure holding facility in the continental United States.”

“Our lives are so fucking strange,” Clint says. “Go on, then. I’ll have J.A.R.V.I.S. keep me updated, if he doesn’t mind.”

“Of course not, Agent Barton.”

“We’ll keep you posted,” Phil says, and he hates to leave Clint, but the situation at S.H.I.E.L.D. seems to be rapidly deteriorating from the increasingly incoherent texts from Darcy.

*          *          *

Darcy arrives on the scene to find far too many shouting people to her taste, an irate Thor, and a flippant Tony Stark. Also, Steve seems to be attempting to break into Barnes’ cell with one of Tony’s gauntlets. The glass is holding up fairly well, but Darcy figures it’s going to break sooner or later. Probably sooner, considering the extreme energy Steve is putting into breaking it. This sort of thing is getting way too familiar.

Natasha is nowhere to be seen, but then, she had told Darcy as much earlier.

Tony’s mask is flipped up, and she can see the sheen of sweat on his face. The leg, then. He’s probably overexerted himself.

Her phone buzzes. She looks at it. From Phil: _Just hold the fort. I’ll be there._ Some of the tension bleeds out of her. Holding the fort, stalling, diverting C.I.A. for a moment, that she can do. 

She steps in front of Tony, 

“Excuse me,” she says. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” 

The woman who is shouting at Tony turns a scathing glance on Darcy, and Darcy takes a moment to thank her stars that she’s dressed appropriately today- she doesn’t think she could have managed to face down this woman in jeans and a t-shirt.

“And who are you?”

“Darcy Lewis,” she says immediately, offering her hand. “S.H.I.E.L.D. liaison to the Avengers.” Not quite the truth, but close enough. There’s the sound of shattering glass, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Steve enter the cell. He kneels in front of Barnes, speaking urgently.

“Agent Rebecca Tanner. Miss Lewis, kindly take control of your team.”

Barnes is on his feet now, embracing Steve.

Tony has edged around Agent Tanner to join them. Thor is still comfortingly behind her, solid, dependable. 

“Agent Tanner, I don’t control the Avengers, nor is S.H.I.E.L.D. to be held responsible for their actions.”

“Miss Lewis, this is unacceptable. James Barnes is a war criminal and considered hostile to the American state. He is to be kept under observation...” Tanner keeps talking.

Darcy tunes her out a little bit, focusing her attention on Tony, who is standing next to Barnes, hip-to-hip, arm around waist. He has his gauntlet back. He looks up, catches her eye.

“Agent Tanner,” Darcy says. She’s still watching Tony carefully. “I realize that the C.I.A. is not as experienced as S.H.I.E.L.D. in dealing with operatives with _questionable_ pasts, but I’m sure that you are aware of some extenuating circumstances in Sergeant Barnes’ case.”

“Extenuating circumstances or _not_ , just because he used to fight with Captain America does not mean he should get any special treatment.”

“With all due respect,” Darcy says, “He shouldn’t get special treatment because he and Captain Rogers have fought together in the past. He should get special treatment because he is an American war hero, and any atrocities committed during his time as the Winter Soldier was not with his consent, nor was he under control of his person.”

“So, what are you saying, Miss Lewis? Mind control? You expect me to just accept that Barnes just happened to be mind-controlled? You and I both know that doesn’t exist, not to the extent that you’re claiming.”

Tony holds up a hand. Barnes is braced against him firmly, one foot on top of Tony’s. _Phil’s going to kill me_ , she thinks.

Tony starts counting down on his fingers. _Five. Four. Three_.

Fuck.

She crosses her arms and says evenly, “Agent Tanner, I personally know two highly respected, highly intelligent men who _were_ put under such control. I don’t find it difficult to believe the same happened to Sergeant Barnes, especially if Captain Rogers is willing to vouch for his character.”

As she finishes her sentence, Tony blasts through the group of guards and past the rest of them with one arm firmly around Barnes.

Darcy is prepared, thanks to Tony’s countdown and she throws herself aside to avoid getting hit.

Tony only barely misses barreling into Agent Tanner, who has to flatten herself on the ground. She puts a phone to her mouth, shouting into it. “ _We have a hostile escaping, aided by the Iron Man. I repeat, hostile is leaving the grounds. Seal off the exits, do_ not _let them through_.”

Darcy shakes her head pityingly. Poor woman. Just isn’t used to the Avengers’ particular brand of crazy. Admittedly, it takes some getting used to. “Agent Tanner,” she says, not bothering to hide the amusement in her voice. “This is not your show to run. And I don’t understand why you think Tony needs exits. He just makes his own.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's sticking with the story despite the sporadic updates!
> 
> Also, Levine has not been forgotten! In fact, he'll be stirring up some trouble in the next chapter.


	8. Bucky Gets Out and Captain America Gets Arrested

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a successful rescue, except for the part where Steve gets arrested.
> 
> Which is annoying, but by no means an actual problem, especially by Pepper's standards.

Phil pulls up to the front of the building just as Tony crashes through the doors. Or more accurately, the wall above the doors.

“Hey, Agent,” Tony says, and flips up his mask.  He grins as he pauses above Phil’s car. He’s holding Barnes against his side. Barnes looks like he can’t quite believe what’s happening, which is understandable.

“Goddammit,” Phil says, but can’t say he’s surprised. He sort of waves a hand, indicating Tony to take Barnes back to the tower.

Tony goes.

Phil takes a moment to compose himself. He wonders if Fury will allow him to retire yet. Then he gets out of his car and calmly (of course calmly, he’s _Agent Coulson_ ) walks into headquarters.

It feels vaguely like walking to the gallows.

*          *          *

“Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me,” Darcy says, flustered for the first time. Hey, she’s only human. “You can’t arrest _Captain America_.”

Tanner looks down her nose at Darcy as her men handcuff an unresisting Steve. “Miss Lewis, Steve Rogers is an American citizen, just like you and me. I have every right to arrest him.”

Darcy bites her lip. She’s in over her head here. An appearance from Natasha or Phil wouldn’t be amiss.

Thor says, “Agent Rebecca Tanner, the good Captain has done nothing to justify such actions to be taken against him. The Son of Coul will have much to say about this.”

And Phil Coulson walks in.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Darcy intones in her best Bane voice.

“Seriously?” Natasha appears behind her. It doesn’t even surprise Darcy anymore.

Darcy shrugs. “It was a good movie.”

“Actually, I thought the ending didn’t quite fit the overall tone of the series,” Natasha counters.

“I see your point,” Darcy concedes. “But come on, it was a great trilogy-”

“Are you speaking of the movies with the Man Bat?”

“Thor, it’s Batman,” Darcy says, grinning. “But yes.”

“Right _now_? Really? Captain America is being taken into C.I.A. custody and you’re talking about _Batman_?” Phil gives them all an incredulous look.

“Sorry,” Natasha says, not sounding very sorry at all.

Phil gives them all a glare, then says mildly in his professional voice, “Miss Lewis, Agent Barton requests your assistance at the tower.”

“Of course, Agent Coulson,” Darcy says, replying in kind. She knows how to play this game. She gives a curt nod to Tanner and the C.I.A. suits, turns on her heel and stalks out.

As soon as she gets into the street, she calls Tony. 

“Um, Darce, I’m a _little_ busy right now. Please leave a message so I can finish situating our new friend here.”

“Steve just got arrested by the C.I.A.,” she says. “Was that part of the plan?”

There is a pause. 

“Well,” Tony says, “We definitely knew that there was a possibility of that happening. But oh, hey, that reminds me. Steve took his bike to S.H.I.E.L.D. You need to ride it back. There are things on there that the C.I.A. should _not_ get their hands on. Now, I really do have to go. See you back home.”

“Tony, _why_ was this a good plan?”

Tony sighs heavily. “Why do you think? You know as well as I do that Steve is as stubborn as an ox when he sets his mind on something. And right now, his main objective is to get Barnes out of the C.I.A.’s hands. We’ve accomplished that, and he was willing to take the fall for it. Besides, Darce, you’ve gotta give Phil a chance. He must have been at least half expecting this. Now go get the bike.”

“Fine,” Darcy says, and hangs up. 

So, to date, Clint and Tony have been kicked off the team, Clint is still stuck in bed, they now have a formerly-brainwashed-now-reformed Soviet assassin as a guest in the tower, and Steve, of all people, has been arrested.

It’s not an ideal situation.

*          *          *

“It’s just not an ideal situation,” Darcy says to Bruce. It’s been a long day, and it’s shaping up to be an even longer night.

“No,” Bruce agrees, “But I feel like it’s _never_ an ideal situation.”

“Point,” Darcy says glumly, as she knocks back a five-hour energy drink. 

*          *          *

“Um, buddy,” Tony says. “Barnes. Bucky. Whatever you want me to call you. You’ve got to help me out here.”

This is a strange day. It’s a strange day, and he has yet _another_ person staying in his tower, and this is getting ridiculous, really, and he didn’t actually think that Tanner lady would _arrest_ Steve-

“Steve’s been arrested?” Barnes says, sounding slightly dazed. He’s steady on his feet after the flight, though, which few people can claim after flying with Tony.

Tony winces. He hadn’t actually meant to say that. “Yeah, no biggie though,” Tony assures him, “Our favorite agent will have him out in a hurry. Trust me.”

Barnes closes his eyes briefly. “It’s Bucky,” he says.

“Bucky, then. You hungry? Or do you want a shower? If you’re tired, we’ve prepared a room for you on Steve’s floor, and then after you’ve settled in I’d like a look at your arm. I’m betting it hurts you.”

Bucky shrugs. “Used to it,” he says.

“Ohhh-kay,” Tony says. “Not a big talker. That’s fine. Doesn’t bother me. But seriously, though, what do you want to do? You name it, I’ll make it happen. Look, see, this is your room. For now. I mean, I can start on some schematics for a floor for you if you’re planning to stick around, but we all figured that maybe you’d like to stick with Steve for a little bit- Oh, Bruce. This is Bucky. Bucky, this is Bruce. He turns big and green when he’s angry, so try not to make him angry. It’s been a while since we’ve had any accidents.”

Bruce sighs. “Tony,” he says, exasperation warring with fondness in his voice. Then he turns to Bucky. “If you need anything, please let me know. And don’t mind Tony. I don’t think he has an off switch.”

A fleeting smile steals over Bucky’s face, and for a moment Tony sees the man Bucky used to be, before the war and before the fall and before the Russians.

“Tony,” Bruce says, and Tony turns to look at him. “Darcy’s on her way up, and then I need you to sit down for a while.”

“What? Why? I mean, yes, Darcy is a good idea, Darcy is good at people. Why do I need to sit down?”

“Because, Tony,” Bruce says patiently, “J.A.R.V.I.S. says you’re running a fever, and you’ve been walking around on a broken leg for about an hour. You need rest. Darcy can handle this. She and Sergeant Barnes will get along just fine.”

As if on cue, Darcy bursts through the door, grinning a little maniacally with a crazed glint in her eye. “So you’re Bucky,” she says, “I am _so_ pleased to meet you. Seriously, I’m glad you’re not dead and stuff. Steve gets real bummed out when he thinks of all the people he’s had to leave behind.”

Tony frowns at her. “Are you on speed? That stuff’s not good for you, I should know, I had a phase-”

“Five hour energy,” Darcy says, rolling her eyes. “Now please go sit down before you fall over. Seriously, take off the suit and take a nap. Bruce, make him rest.”

Bruce takes Tony by the arm and tugs him out of the room. Tony goes without protest, because yeah, his head is pounding and his leg has had better days.

*          *          *

When Clint wakes up, he’s alone in his room.

This stuck-in-bed thing is really starting to get on his nerves. 

“J.A.R.V.I.S.?” 

“Yes, Agent Barton?”

“Can you fill me in on what’s going on with everyone?”

“Of course, Agent Barton. Miss Lewis is helping Sergeant Barnes get settled in. I believe she was planning on dropping by with some food in a few minutes. Dr. Banner is currently going through Sergeant Barnes’ medical records, while sir is working on a new arm-”

“New arm?” Clint interrupts, because maybe he heard that wrong; there’s still some pretty strong stuff coursing through his blood.

“Sergeant Barnes is in possession of a bionic arm that is at least a decade out of date, and sir believes that it is causing him pain.”

“Ah,” says Clint, because why not? Why _wouldn’t_ Barnes have a robot arm? It actually makes more sense than not, at this point.

“Would you like me to continue?” J.A.R.V.I.S. says pointedly.

“Yes, please. Sorry,” Clint says. J.A.R.V.I.S. is touchy, which means Tony isn’t doing what he’s supposed to be doing. Which is probably rest.

“Agents Coulson and Romanov are at headquarters. Agent Romanov is dealing with the property damage and direct fallout of Sergeant Barnes’ breakout, while Agent Coulson is attempting to get Captain Rogers released from C.I.A. custody.”

Clint had been taking a sip of water and ends up spitting it out. “Steve’s in C.I.A. custody? _What_?”

“Apparently,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says drily, “The C.I.A. doesn’t appreciate it when people snatch out their property from under their noses.”

“Huh,” Clint says. “Seems like everybody’s fairly busy. Is there anything left for me to do? I’m kinda getting bored, here.”

“Agent Levine has requested a meeting with you and sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says.

There’s a pause.

Clint smirks. “Tony’s busy. I’m not doing much, though.”

J.A.R.V.I.S. says, “May I remind you, Agent Barton, that you are supposed to remain in bed for another week?”

“Just suggestions. Guidelines, really. Nothing concrete.”

Another pause.

“Hey, J.A.R.V.I.S. Did Tony ever finish that hoverchair?”

*          *          *

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “Really.”

Phil looks at him evenly.

“I mean,” Steve says, “I’m sorry we’ve caused this trouble for you. I wasn’t thinking. It was just, it was Bucky, and I’m tired of Fury lying to us, and then he looked so _awful_ in that cell-”

“Steve,” Phil says gently, stopping him from going on, because he can’t blame the man, precisely, for behaving the way he did. He doesn’t know why they would have expected anything less, because Steve has proven that he’s ready to go to any lengths to protect one of his own. And he’s already shown once that he’s willing to go to the ends of the Earth for this man- or, at least, deep into Nazi territory. S.H.I.E.L.D. is nothing compared to that. “We’re handling this as a team. Barnes will be fine, now. There’s no way Tony lets the C.I.A. anywhere near Barnes. The main thing now is to get you out.”

Steve shrugs. “It could be worse.” He stretches his legs out from where he’s sitting, back against the wall. “I’ll wait it out.”

“You’ll have to,” Phil says wryly. “I think two dramatic break-outs in the space of an hour is a bit much for even us. Anyway, it shouldn’t be too long. I have Natasha on it.”

*          *          *

Natasha curses silently. 

This is Clint’s job. This is _not_ something that _she_ does, because Clint is supposed to be the one crawling through the vents and eavesdropping on C.I.A. agents.

But since he’s out of commission, Phil had given her a meaningful glance before he stalked off to talk to Steve, and now Natasha is in an air conditioning vent, listening to the agents talk.

_“Robertson. I don’t want this leaked. The last thing we need is the American people knowing that we arrested their golden boy.”_

_“Yes, ma’am. Won’t S.H.I.E.L.D. call the press?”_

_“No. They stay in the shadows. They won’t reveal anything about this. If anything, that bastard Fury is already working to sweep this under the carpet and coming up with five separate cover stories to explain why Captain America won’t be dealing with the next crisis.”_

Natasha smiles to herself, because maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t like to be in the public eye, but she knows a certain major company that doesn’t mind at all.

She stays for a few more minutes, but the conversation deteriorates into horror stories about some of the Avengers, especially Bruce, and Natasha thinks that if she stays much longer, she may leave behind a few bodies. Or at least some broken bones

So she turns around and makes her way to Coulson’s office- still in the vents, of course.

Just because she doesn’t like using them doesn’t mean she doesn’t know them by heart. After all, she’s had to drag a drunk or injured (or both) Clint from the vents numerous times.

When she finally drops into Coulson’s office, it’s dark and empty. He’s still with Steve, then.

She dusts herself off- and she’s going to be letting Fury know about the dismal state of the vents- and pads over to the couch, curling up on it.

Then she makes a decision. 

And a phone call.

*          *          *

Pepper is about to leave her office when her cell phone rings from a blocked number.

“Hello?”

“Pepper, it’s Natasha.”

“Is everyone okay? Is something wrong?” Pepper sits back down. Just in case. The last time Natasha called from a blocked number, it had been something about Phil and an Asgardian squid and some magical ink.

“Well, it depends on what you’d define as _wrong_ ,” Natasha says.

“Natasha,” Pepper says warningly. She feels a headache coming on.

“We need to go public with the information that the C.I.A. has arrested Steve. Give us a positive spin.”

“Oh my God,” Pepper says. She takes a deep breath. “Fine. Give me everything you have.”

Ten minutes later, Pepper sets down her cell phone and buries her face in her hands. She pulls herself together relatively quickly though, because as far as she’s concerned, this is an acceptable situation because nobody is missing, or hurt, or dead, or in danger of dying.

It’s a good day.

Or, well, she amends, glancing at her watch, a good night. She sighs, leans back in her chair, scribbles herself a few notes, and starts writing some emails. 

She doesn’t have to wait long after hitting send. Nearly immediately, her office phone and cell are both ringing. 

She takes the office first. “Hello? Hi, Brian. So kind of you to get back to me so quickly. Hmm? Yes. This story is going to blow your mind. You’ve got to get this out there as soon as possible. Breaking news. The people need to know about this. Yes. Absolutely. Mr. Stark will be available for comment, but not at the moment. The C.I.A. have _wrongly_ arrested Captain America...”

*          *          *

Darcy doesn’t try to force conversation between herself and Bucky, because she figures he’ll talk if he wants to.

For now, if he wants to eat his meal in silence, that’s fine too.

That’s what she keeps telling herself, anyway, but staying quiet isn’t really her thing, and about halfway through her pasta she says, “Steve talks about you.”

He looks at her, and man, this one’s a looker, with his dark eyes and hair and a smirk playing about the corners of his mouth. “Yeah? What’s he say?”

“He says that you’re his best friend, and that you grew up together. And that you used to be a lot bigger than him.”

“Well,” Bucky says, really grinning now, “He used to be smaller.”

“Maybe you just used to be bigger.”

He snorts. “Well, there used to be more of me.” He waves his bionic arm at her.

“About that,” Darcy says, “Tony’s working on a new one for you. He thinks this one hurts you.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I’m used to it,” he says. “I don’t know how, exactly, but it feels natural. Like I’ve been using it for ages.”

_Yeah,_ Darcy thinks uneasily, _Because you were a Soviet assassin for ages._ Out loud, she only says, “Trust me, whatever Tony builds for you, it’ll be better than that old hunk of metal.”

“Is he a lot like his old man, then?”

Darcy twirls her spaghetti on her fork. “Who, Tony? I figure he’s a hundred times the man Howard was, but maybe I’m biased. I never knew Howard, and Tony doesn’t remember him fondly.”

“There was no middle ground with Howard,” Bucky says thoughtfully, “You hated him, or you loved him.”

“It’s easy to love Tony,” Darcy says slowly, “But he doesn’t trust easily anymore. You have to work for it.”

“Do you love him?” Bucky asks, curiosity flashing in his eyes.

“Yes, of course,” Darcy says automatically. Then, realizing what he meant, “Not like _that_!”

“Want to go get a drink?” He smiles at her, all teeth and charm.

Darcy laughs. “Oh my God,” she says. “We’ve just only gotten you out of a miserable month in C.I.A. custody and you’re asking me out? You’re just like Steve said you’d be.”

“Is that a no?”

“Sergeant Barnes, that is definitely a no, because although you are one fine piece of ass, I think I may possibly be in love with a scientist with anger-management issues, and it wouldn’t be fair of me to go on a date with you.”

“Fair enough,” Bucky says, not looking upset whatsoever. “But really, I need a drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me, all managing to churn out two updates this week! A big old thank you to everyone who's reading and commenting and enjoying these. I still can't quite believe people actually want to read this. (:
> 
> Also, anyone who can write Clint and Phil competently, I bow down to you. It's so hard for me. I just can't get them right for the life of me.


	9. The Avengers Are Apparently Not the Only Ones Who Want Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody but Natasha and Pepper seem to be capable of feeding themselves. HYDRA tries to grab Bucky. Levine makes a reappearance at the battle site. Darcy isn't having any of this shit today. Also, nobody can make Tony rest his broken leg except Steve, and Steve's still in a holding cell.

“This is fucking awesome,” Clint says, delighted. “I should have broken my entire body before this.”

“If I may, Agent Barton, I’d like to suggest you try _not_ to break your entire body in the future. It seems to be upsetting to the others.”

“Yeah, okay, fine,” Clint says. “But J.A.R.V.I.S., you have got to admit this is awesome.”

“Extremely,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says, without a trace of amusement in his voice. “Agent Barton, _please_ be careful.”

“Careful, duh, when am I not careful?”

“Was that a rhetorical question, or should I bring up the footage?”

“Geez, J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Clint says, but he can’t stop grinning. Because this hoverchair is seriously awesome. He flicks a switch and it jets upward. “I’m totally getting the hang of this.”

He knocks something with his elbow, and the chair plummets to the ground. He manages to halt the fall enough so that he only gets jarred slightly when the chair hits the floor, but it’s still painful enough that he blacks out for a second. Which is of course when Darcy walks in with a plate of spaghetti.

“Oh my _God_ ,” she says. “Clint, what the fuck? Bedrest. You are supposed to be on bedrest. You are barely supposed to be awake right now.”

“Got bored,” Clint says, when he manages to get the pain under control. “Is that for me?”

“Of course it’s for you, you idiot. If you break any more bones I’m not going to be the one to tell Phil.”

Clint smirks at her. “I’m fairly sure I don’t have any bones left to break.”

“Don’t rebreak any of your bones,” Darcy amends. “Come meet Bucky, if you’re up and about, yeah? He’s cool.”

Clint nods. “I’ll come down after I eat?”

“Good,” Darcy says, “Because I think I’d like to take a bit of a nap before Pep gets me doing the PR bit.”

Clint looks at her, and there are slight bags under her eyes, covered with make-up, of course, and there’s s certain weariness to her step. “I can come down now,” he offers. 

Darcy shrugs. “Nah,” she says. “I’m fine. I’ve had worse nights.”

“Like when?” Clint challenges. “This is so not a good night.”

“Well, there was last week. When you were, you know, all in a coma and stuff,” Darcy says pointedly. “None of us honestly got very much sleep. At least tonight I’m relatively sure nobody is about to die.”

“Fair enough,” Clint says. “I’ll be down soon.”

She waves at him and says, “Be careful on that thing. Does it have a name yet?”

“Of course,” Clint says indignantly. “This is the motherfucking Hawkmobile.”

She laughs. “We’ll be in the living room. The main one.”

*          *          *

“Tony, enough. You need to sleep.” Bruce crosses his arms, looks at the other man.

Tony shakes his head. “No, really, I’m almost done. Only a few more hours. I just need measurements. And then I have to make a couple of minor adjustments. I can build better ones, of course, with feedback from Barnes, but this should do. For now.”

“Tony.”

“Bruce.”

Bruce throws his hands up. “Fine. At least eat something. Your body needs rest and it needs food. Get at least one of them done. And for God’s sake, sit down. That leg is never going to heal.”

“All right, _mother_ ,” Tony says good-naturedly. He’s pleased, Bruce can tell, because the cybernetic arm seems to be functioning well. (“I’d already been doing work on prosthesis,” Tony had said with a shark-like grin. “This is just a little more... advanced.”)

“I’ll be right back,” Bruce says. “Please don’t set anything on fire.”

“That’s what Butterfingers is for,” Tony says, already leaning back over the arm.

Bruce sighs and goes to find some food.

He runs into Darcy in the elevator. She’s carrying a fully loaded tray- two heaping plates of pasta, complete with breadsticks.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she says.

“Good call,” Bruce says. “I was just coming up to look for food.”

Darcy rolls her eyes. “I swear nobody eats without me bringing them food.”

“I was coming to get some,” Bruce protests. He takes the tray from her. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Anytime,” Darcy says. “Gotta keep my second and third favorite scientists well fed.”

“Jane?” 

“Jane,” Darcy confirms. “Hoes before bros. Sisters before misters. You get the gist of it.”

“Have you eaten?” Bruce turns and heads for the lab. She walks with him.

“Yeah, with Bucky. Then I fed Clint, who, by the way, has commandeered Tony’s hoverchair prototype and is calling it the Hawkmobile. I plan to go check on Phil. Jane’s gone to find Thor. We don’t actually know where he is, which is fairly disturbing on several levels since I’m pretty sure he broke his StarkPhone yesterday.”

“How about Natasha?”

“What about her? She and Pepper can feed themselves. I trust _them_ to manage their calorie intake. The rest of you, on the other hand, don’t seem to realize that eating is a requirement. To live.”

*          *          *

Natasha hates being in the public eye. Really, really hates it.

It means she can’t go deep undercover anymore, now that she’s an Avenger and her face is plastered on a different news station every other day.

But it can’t be helped, and she accepted that long ago. And she’s good at interviews and gives great sound bytes- she can be optimistic, or somber, or cuttingly sarcastic- if you asked Darcy or Phil which Avenger they’d want handling the press, it would come down to Steve and Natasha. Everybody adores Thor, but he gets bored with talking to reporters and answering the same questions and inevitably ends up getting people drunk. Tony is either spot-on or a disaster. Bruce hates dealing with the media even more than Natasha, and Clint is always a dick on national television. 

So it’s Steve or Natasha, and Steve is cooling his heels in a C.I.A. lock-up.

So it’s Natasha.

It’s Natasha, wearing a simple-but-classy black dress with her curls swept to the side and a look of righteous anger in her eyes. 

It’s Natasha who speaks to reporters during a press conference in a carefully controlled tone of voice that says I’m-upset-about-this-but-I-trust-the-American-people-to-set-this-right.

“I speak for all of us,” she says quietly, so that the reporters fall silent to hear her speak. “When I say that Captain Rogers did what he has always done- and always will. He fought for a friend who was being unjustly held in custody. If there is one thing you should know about the Captain, it’s that he fights for _justice_. And this? This isn’t justice. _I_ am ashamed that this is how the government decides to act towards an American hero. This is Captain Rogers. This is a man who would gladly lay down his life for this country and _has_ multiple times, and the moment he chooses to defy the government, he is arrested? He may be a national icon, but he is not _property_. He is entitled to his opinions and his rights, and it is his _right_ to disagree with the government. It is his responsibility to fight against injustice, and that is precisely what he did.”

Her voice has steadily risen, and by the time she finishes, she’s speaking in a slightly-louder-than-normal tone heavy with conviction. 

She knows how to manipulate a crowd.

“Miss Romanov, what does this mean for the Avengers?” 

She looks evenly at the man who asked. “You tell me,” she says. She slides out of her seat gracefully and leaves the room to whispers. 

Pepper is waiting for her outside the press room with a cup of coffee and a croissant.

She hands both to Natasha, and Natasha nods in thanks and takes a sip of coffee.

“Pepper, did you spike my coffee?”

“It’s been a long week.”

“You are the best.”

“I really am,” Pepper agrees, taking a drink from her own steaming thermos.

*          *         *

Phil is tired, because dealing with the C.I.A. is probably one of his least favorite things to do. It’s like ramming his head against a wall. Repeatedly. 

Doing it on no sleep is even worse. He thinks that maybe he’d rather get stabbed in the back by a magical scepter.

Well, no. Maybe not that.

He’d rather get shot, though. Definitely would rather get shot.

He’s on the phone with another low-level agent, trying to speak to some higher-ups, when Darcy pokes her head into his office. 

He raises an eyebrow; she’s supposed to be at the tower with Barnes.

She comes in, closes the door behind her, and plops down on the couch. She’s holding a tupperware container of pasta.

Phil sees it and realizes that he’s hungry.

He listens to the useless agent drone on for another moment, gives up, and says abruptly, “I’m afraid I have more pertinent issues to attend to, Agent Sterling. If you can put me in touch with someone who can help me, please do so. If not, I’m afraid I don’t have the time for this.”

The man stammers something about putting him on hold.

Phil hangs up.

“More pertinent issues... Like food?” Darcy says, grinning. 

Phil glares.

She gets up, hands him the pasta, and pulls a foil-wrapped breadstick out of her purse. “I don’t understand why nobody I know can feed themselves properly. How did any of you eat before I came?”

“I eat,” Phil says, between bites. “I am, in fact, _excellent_ at eating. I’ll have you know that I even eat at regular times. Occasionally.”

Darcy rolls her eyes. “I’ve noticed that mealtimes are a strange concept to you people.”

Phil smiles a little. “In our line of work, we eat when there’s time and don’t eat when there isn’t.”

“Fair enough,” Darcy says. “Um, have you seen Thor around?”

Phil puts down his fork and stares at her. “He isn’t at the Tower?”

“No,” Darcy says, sighing. “I have Jane out looking for him, but it’s a little odd that he’d disappear at a time like this. The last time he went missing-”

“He blacked out a third of the Eastern seaboard,” Phil completes for her. “I remember.” He’s distinctly worried now.

“It’s probably nothing to worry about,” Darcy says hurriedly. “I’ll take care of it. Maybe Pepper borrowed him for some PR?”

*          *          *

“Pepper hasn’t seen him,” Jane says into her phone. “No, I don’t have any idea where- _oh my god, WHAT IS THAT THING_?”

“ _Jane? What’s going on?_ ” 

There is some sort of massive metal thing with multiple legs making its way through Times Square. There is also a figure in a red cape flying around it.

“Um, hang on, Darce. I’ll call you back. If I’m not dead. I think I found Thor, though.”

Jane hangs up without listening to Darcy’s protests and moves against the flow of the crowd to examine the metal spider(?) more closely. It’s big enough that Thor looks like tiny beside it, and it’s clearly making its way to Avengers Tower.

“My life has gotten so fucking odd,” she says out loud. 

The metal spider turns, and Jane sees a familiar symbol.

She calls Darcy immediately. “Not dead, found Thor, and there’s a giant HYDRA thing heading straight for the tower.”

“Fucking Christ,” Darcy says, then relays the information to someone who’s with her.

*          *          *

“Well, at least we know where Thor is,” Darcy says weakly.

Phil nods. “Fury must have had a tip.”

“He couldn’t have warned us?”

There is nothing to say to that, because yes, Fury _could_ have given them a little heads up. So Phil just shrugs and says, “Go be my eyes. They need someone on the ground, watching. Especially since they’ll be down half the team.”

“I’m not a tactician,” Darcy says. “You go, I’ll handle this?”

Phil shakes his head. “They won’t talk to you. They’re barely talking to _me_ , and Darcy, I _am_ S.H.I.E.L.D. Short of Fury, nobody but Hill and I have the pull to get this done. Hill’s already working another angle. Go.”

“All right,” Darcy says. “I want Clint in my ear.”

“Fine,” Phil says. “Keep me posted.”

*          *          *

Clint is explaining the various unnecessary and cutting-edge kitchen accessories to Bucky when the alarm blares through the building.

“Well,” Clint remarks offhandedly, “Looks like it’ll be just you, me, and Tony. Hey, have you met Tony?”

Bucky gives a bitter half-smile. “Yeah, I’ve met Tony. He’s a lot like his dad.”

Clint’s eyes widen in alarm. “Yeah, no, let’s not mention that. Let’s definitely not do that. And for the record...” He pauses, not knowing quite what to say.

Bucky shrugs. “Darcy warned me against mentioning Howard. Sounds like he’s not your favorite person around here.”

Clint shrugs. “The Howard you and Steve knew didn’t exist by the time Tony came around,” he says. “And he wasn’t the best dad.”

Bucky says nothing, but looks thoughtful.

Clint’s phone rings. Darcy. He picks it up. “Hey,” he says.

“I want your eyes,” she says. “I’m not a tactician, Phil’s tied up with the bureaucracy, and Steve is sitting in a holding cell. We’re down half the team, and I need someone to tell me what to look for. I’m getting Tony to get J.A.R.V.I.S. to hack into every surveillance camera in the vicinity, and you’ll also have a video feed from Natasha. Hell, have Bucky look in, too. He’s a sniper.”

“Okay,” Clint says, because it’s not like he’s going to say no. 

“Thanks,” Darcy says. “Gotta go see the giant fucking HYDRA spider robot because that is _just the way_ this week is going. Bye.”

And, well, she has a point. 

J.A.R.V.I.S. says, “Agent Barton, Sergeant Barnes, if it is convenient, I have set up some screens in the living room with footage from the battle site, if you’d like to take a look.”

Bucky jumps.

“Meet J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Clint says, thinking that maybe someone should have thought to mention it to Bucky. “Thanks, J.A.R.V.I.S.”

*          *          *

Natasha is still with Pepper when Phil calls her and tells her to suit up and get her ass over to Times Square because so-help-him-God he already has enough paperwork for a lifetime with the Barnes debacle and he does not fucking need HYDRA snatching Barnes from under their noses.

“Sorry,” Natasha says to Pepper, and finds that she’s genuinely sorry, because she and Pepper rarely have time to sit and talk anymore.

Pepper smiles. “Used to it, remember? Go on, then. Don’t get yourselves killed.”

“All the reckless ones are already down for the count,” Natasha points out as she leaves.

When she arrives on scene, Darcy is standing there, waiting with a tiny camera. “I need you to wear this somewhere on your person.”

Natasha doesn’t question it; she takes it and clips it onto her collar. Then she stares at the robot-spider thing and _damn_ , it’s huge and it’s clumsy, but it’s powerful.

Bruce arrives shortly after, and they watch as Thor goes at the thing.

“Big,” Bruce remarks.

“Very,” Natasha says.

They’re both thinking that the Hulk could take it out, but the collateral damage would be massive in an area like Times Square.

“I’d prefer not to,” Bruce says wearily, “But I will if I have to.”

“Let’s see if Thor and I can contain it, at least.”

It goes without saying that she and Thor won’t be able to do much against it. Maybe with the rest of the team, they could have avoided breaking out the Hulk in the middle of the city.

And of course, that’s when Levine shows up.

Darcy turns to face him, arms crossed. “For fuck’s sake,” she says, “You have _got_ to be kidding me. I thought we fired you, or something.”

Natasha takes a peek at Bruce. A smile steals across his face. It disappears swiftly as Levine says, “You, Banner. Let’s get going.”

“ _No_ ,” Darcy snaps. “Not yet.”

Natasha puts a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze, before taking off to help Thor out.

Levine says firmly, “Banner, go do your monster thing.”

Darcy’s temper flares. “Go fuck yourself,” she says. “You don’t know what it does to him. Transforming isn’t pleasant, it’s painful and it leaves him with a migraine and body aches that last for a week. Don’t ask him to do that if it isn’t necessary. Right now, it isn’t necessary, and it’s counterproductive unless you _want_ to destroy half of the city.”

Bruce shoots her a grateful look.

Levine glares.

Darcy glares back.

*          *          *

Clint studies the footage intently, eyes scanning the multiple screens.

Bucky is doing the same, and Clint is pleased to find that Bucky is more than competent at spotting openings in the thing’s armored hull and its walking patterns.

They feed off of each other, and Clint briefly thinks that he’d be all right with Barnes joining the team. 

“It’s not working,” Clint says to Darcy, as he watches a metal arm-ish thing swipe at Thor and send him flying into a high-rise. “We need to shut this thing down or get it away from such a populated area and let the Other Guy at it.”

“Yeah, well,” Darcy practically snarls, “Agent fucktard over here wants to let the Other Guy out right now. Bruce and I disagree.”

“No, yeah, that would not be good,” Clint agrees, because the Hulk is indestructible, sure, but that means he’s a one man wrecking crew that could take out the entire city in less than a day. And beyond the obvious property damage and loss of life, something like that happening would send Bruce running, and it isn’t pleasant for him to change, either. 

Onscreen, he watches as Natasha takes a leap from a roof onto the thing itself, and he wants to punch something.

Next to him, Bucky’s breath hitches, and Clint turns to him, alarmed, because the last thing he needs right now is for Bucky’s Winter Soldier era to come rushing back.

“You okay?” Clint asks cautiously.

“Fine,” Bucky says. “I think maybe if Thor tried to direct it to the left, they could avoid running into that strip of hotels.” The moment has passed.

“I’ll relay that,” Darcy says. “Although I don’t know how, since he _doesn’t have an earpiece on_.” She sounds pissed.

“You’ll figure it out,” Clint says, amused. 

“Really, though,” Natasha says, sounding slightly out of breath. She is, after all, sitting on top of the thing. “Can Tony hack it?”

Bucky freezes at the sound of her voice. 

Clint winces, says, “Tash, keep it down, yeah?” The use of a nickname instead of her full name or her field name is deliberate, and he trusts that she’ll take his cue.

There is an affirmative click from her.

“Of course I can hack it,” comes a new voice, and Tony, wearing his suit, limps into the room.

“No,” Clint says, “You are not about to-” 

“I’ll link you into my feed, too,” Tony says, then flies out the window.

“For the love of God,” Clint says heatedly. “Stark, you fucking idiot.”

“Love you too, Barton,” Tony says. “Darce, I’m coming in hard from your east.”

“You’re supposed to be _resting_ ,” Darcy says, but sounds resigned.

“I tried to tell him,” Clint offers.

“Thanks for the effort,” Darcy says, and he can hear the grin in her voice.

“Can’t keep me down,” Tony says cheerfully.

Levine’s voice is added to the mix as he says, “Stark, you’re not authorized to be here.”

“Maybe I’m a well-meaning vigilante,” Tony retorts. “What I do on my own time has nothing to do with you.”

“Iron Man, if you can’t hack it, can you and Thor get it somewhere we can let the Other Guy out?”

“Last resort, babe. I should be able to do this. Barton, I could use those signal jamming arrows around now.”

“I’d be there if I could,” Clint says, a little bitterly. A new feed has blinked onto the screen; Tony’s view of the battle.

“Is that thing coming for me?” Bucky asks, sounding a little ill.

“Well, all things considered, yeah, probably,” Clint says. “But don’t worry, they’ve got it under control. Tony, control panel on the bottom right? I think.”

“Bingo,” Tony says. “Good call, bright eyes.”

“Bright eyes?” Bruce says, laughing.

Clint accepts the name philosophically. It means Tony cares.

“Are you guys always like this?” Bucky asks.

“Yes,” Tony says, at exactly the same time as Darcy says, “They’re usually worse. Steve is surprisingly snarky during battle.”

“It works out okay, usually,” Clint says to him.

They watch together as Tony bashes his way into the control panel and shuts the spider-robot thing down. 

“See,” Clint says. “Works out okay.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, though, the HYDRA-spider powers back up and blasts Tony into the ground.

“Fuck,” Clint says.

“ 'm fine,” Tony says almost immediately, but his voice is tight with pain. “Okay, Plan B, yeah?” 

“I think so,” Clint agrees, and there’s a click from Natasha.

“Sorry, Bruce,” Tony says.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruce says. “Where are we going?”

Clint and Bucky watch as Tony swoops over to Thor and discusses something for a moment. He’s turned off his comm, so they can’t hear what he’s saying, but when he finishes his conversation, Thor flies down and takes one of the arms. Tony takes another.

“Can the Other Guy swim?” Tony asks, and Clint grins.

“Um,” says Bruce, and then he’s the Hulk.

“This is why we need Steve,” Darcy says, but doesn’t protest as Tony and Thor take the HYDRA spider out to deep sea, the Hulk bounding eagerly after them.


	10. Darcy Inadvertently Becomes Bucky's Shrink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe things are beginning to turn around for the team, because the HYDRA-spider-robot-monstrosity is at the bottom of the ocean and nobody is dead or even hurt.
> 
> Darcy gives her best shot at briefly dealing with a distressed Bucky
> 
> Also, Nick Fury breaks Steve out.

Darcy is not a happy camper, because Phil is still cutting through red tape to get Steve released into S.H.I.E.L.D. custody, so she’s the one dealing with the remainder of the team. And in a largely unprecedented turn of events, as soon as the Hulk tears apart the HYDRA spider, he immediately changes back into Bruce, leaving Bruce unconscious in the middle of the ocean.

“Fuck,” Darcy says, a little hysterically. “Thor-” she starts, before remembering that Thor is lacking a comm unit.

“Tony,” Clint says, more calmly than Darcy, but with a hint of urgency all the same.

“Got it, got it,” Tony says. “What _would_ you have done without me?”

Levine is standing next to Darcy. “Miss Lewis, this is not your area of expertise. I suggest you let the professionals take care of this.”

Darcy rolls her eyes to heaven, because she has bigger fish to fry than him right now, although she hasn’t forgotten the way Bruce had drawn into himself when Levine called him a menace, or how broken and fragile Clint looked in S.H.I.E.L.D. medical, or how Tony had practically drowned himself in alcohol- no, she’s not forgetting Levine. She’s got a score to settle. But right now, there are other things to worry about.

“I _am_ letting the professionals take care of this,” Darcy says pleasantly, channeling Pepper as well as she can. “Agent Barton is calling the shots here.”

She takes pleasure in the flash of irritation in Levine’s eyes, and then Tony says, “Got him, Darce, get some towels. And blankets. And he’ll want something hot when he wakes up.”

“Got it,” she says.

*          *          *

Clint catches his breath when he sees the Hulk shrink back into Bruce. Bruce slides into the water, unconscious. 

Darcy sounds panicked when she calls for Thor. Fat lot of good that will do; Thor doesn’t have his comm unit on.

“Tony,” Clint says instead, and he hates to do that because Tony really shouldn’t be on site at all; Tony should be sitting on the couch with his leg propped up and his ribs wrapped.

“Got it, got it,” Tony says as he jets forward.

Clint doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until Tony neatly plucks a limp Bruce out of the ocean. Beside him, Bucky whistles softly. “How do you deal with it?”

Clint looks at him sidelong. “Deal with what?”

“It’s... chaotic. No order. I mean... You all know what you’re doing, and the we- the Commandos- had our fair share of FUBAR missions, but...”

Clint has to think about it objectively, because it’s what he’s used to now, and he can barely remember a time where they weren’t coming up with things on the fly, improvising because plans never quite worked the way they should. Clint shrugs. “To be fair,” he says, “Usually we’re a little more organized. Phil- Agent Coulson- is usually on site, and Steve wasn’t there this time.” He pauses. “Also, yours truly is usually actually _at_ the scene of the fight and more useful than this. We get used to having each other around, and it’s not like we never get separated, because obviously we do, but this is the first time we’ve been down half the team with so little warning. This one was a bit of a mess. I think it’s actually the first time we’ve been without Steve, Phil, _and_ me at the same time, and we’re the primary tacticians on the team.”

Bucky nods thoughtfully. “You work together well, then.”

Clint laughs. “Didn’t happen overnight.”

On the screens, Tony drops Bruce off at a med van. Things seem to wrapping up nicely.

“Darce, you good?” Clint asks.

“Yeah,” she says. “Thanks, boys.”

“Always a pleasure,” Clint says.

“Hey, Lewis, how about that drink when you get back?” Bucky says.

“Fuck off, Barnes,” Darcy says, but they can hear the grin in her voice. “I’ve got a hot date with my pillow as soon as I get back. Tony’ll drink with you, though.”

“Actually,” Tony butts in, “I hate to say this, I really do, because no one likes a getting rip-roaringly drunk more than I do, but I had plans that involve me being depressingly sober and attaching a better arm to Barnes. We can get drunk afterwards, though?”

Bucky grins. “I look forward to it, Stark.”

“How come I’m not invited to drink,” Clint says, whining a little.

“You’re still on the good meds,” Darcy says. “No alcohol for you.”

“Fuck,” Clint sighs, and sadly takes off his comm unit.

*          *          *

For all her blustering about getting into bed after the fight, Darcy knows she’s not going to be able to do anything of the kind.

She downs another five-hour-energy shot.

Then she sets about doing what she does best- organizing and bullying people into submission. 

*          *          *

Phil isn’t surprised when Natasha slips into his office and curls up on the couch. It’s familiar, as easy as breathing- Natasha spends nearly as much time on his couch as Clint does.

She doesn’t say anything, so he doesn’t either. If she wants to say something, she will. He already knows why she’s here, anyway.

Presently, though, he sends one final email to some bigwig C.I.A. official and turns to her.

Her eyes are closed, but she’s awake.

“We can’t just have you avoid him forever,” Phil says mildly.

She doesn’t open her eyes as she says evenly, “I don’t want to risk it. These things are delicate. I would know.” 

“He’ll see you at some point,” Phil points out, “And when he does, we’ll deal with it.”

Her eyes flash open now. “And if we lose him? Forever? If he becomes what he was when I knew him?”

Phil says nothing, because she’s right.

She knows it, too. “I’m staying away from the tower for now. I’ll remain in the city in case there’s an emergency, but I won’t risk it. I owe Steve that much, at least.”

Phil nods once, curtly, acquiescing. “Once Steve gets to talk to him-”

“If Steve wants me to keep staying away, I’ll keep staying away,” Natasha says, her voice flat. “And if he wants me to come back, if he wants to see what happens, then I’ll come back. I’ll trust his judgement on this.”

Phil looks at her thoughtfully, because he remembers a time when Natasha trusted nobody’s judgement, not even her own.

She shifts on the couch, turning so that she’s facing inwards, a plain signal that the conversation is over.

Phil says nothing, and allows himself a brief moment to reminisce about the days when it was just S.H.I.E.L.D. and Clint and Natasha and there were no aliens or dysfunctional superhero groups or bionic-armed assassins that should have died years ago.

Then he gets back to work, because he’s almost got this, he’s almost compiled everything he needs to get Steve into S.H.I.E.L.D. hands.

*          *         *

Steve is sitting calmly in the holding cell when Nick Fury walks through the doors. 

“Get out,” Fury says, arms crossed, eye narrowed. 

“Excuse me?” Steve says, unerringly polite as always. “Director-”

“Captain Rogers, due to mass public outroar and Agent Coulson’s commitment to shredding through red tape and finding loopholes in protocol, it appears that the C.I.A. has agreed to give you up to S.H.I.E.L.D. custody.”

Steve gets to his feet, a grin beginning to form on his face.

“And,” Fury says, with a glint in his eye, “Sadly, an error occurred in our security systems, allowing you to escape. We’ve sent operatives after you, but you’ve eluded capture. In any case, you are not at headquarters anymore, are you?”

“No, sir,” Steve says.

Fury steps aside, and Steve bolts from the cell, because he’s been sitting still for _hours_ , and he’s not Clint.

And there’s Bucky back at the tower, and he’s excited and nervous and feels a little like he wants to throw up.

And then a bullet narrowly misses his head, and well, shit, that was unexpected. But Steve is familiar with S.H.I.E.L.D.’s propensity for theatricality, and just ducks his head and goes on his way.

*          *          *

They’ve all gathered in the living room, just out of habit. 

It’s been a while since most of them have gotten to really rest, Darcy thinks, looking around, and it shows.

Even Thor, who doesn’t get tired, is sitting on the ground, leaning up against the couch. The rest of them are no better off. Clint’s finally given in and taken some pain meds (after a stern phone call from Phil) and is lying in a pleasant haze on the couch. Tony’s sitting next to him, having popped some pills of his own. Darcy’s having J.A.R.V.I.S. monitor him, because he was running a fever after the fight. She and Bruce are squished together in the armchair. Bruce is sound asleep, and Darcy is nearly there when she realizes that Bucky isn’t in the room with them.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.,” she says softly, so she doesn’t disturb the others, “Where’s Bucky?”

“I believe he is in Captain Rogers’ quarters, Miss Lewis.” J.A.R.V.I.S. hesitates, which is rare. “If I may, Miss Lewis, I think he would find some company to be beneficial right now.”

“And by company, you mean me?” Darcy says, grimacing slightly, because she’s _so tired_ , but she’s already gently maneuvering herself away from Bruce.

“I think in the absence of Agent Coulson or Captain Rogers, and since Agent Barton seems fairly incapacitated at the moment, yes, Miss Lewis, I believe your presence is best.”

Darcy gets carefully to her feet, making sure she doesn’t displace Bruce, and gives a wave to the others as she goes to the elevator.

She gets to Steve’s floor, and has to search for Bucky.

She finds him sitting with his back to the wall and his head in his hands in Steve’s cardio room.

“Hey,” she says.

He looks up at her, eyes blank.

“I don’t remember,” he says, voice low and steady. “I’ve been trying to, but I can’t remember.”

“Don’t remember what?” Darcy says, heart sinking. If he’s lost his memories of Steve, she doesn’t know what she’ll do. Tell Phil to keep Steve locked up, probably.”

“How I’m here,” he says. “You said Steve was frozen,” and Darcy lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. 

“You said he was frozen,” Bucky says again, “But how did _I_ get to the future?”

And Darcy doesn’t know what to tell him.

For a second too long, she hesitates, and then there’s something shuttered about Bucky’s gaze.

“I don’t want to lie to you,” she says. 

“Then don’t,” Bucky says sharply.

“Okay,” Darcy says, and sinks to sit beside him. 

They sit without speaking for a bit, and then Bucky says, “I’ve been getting flashes. Of things I don’t remember doing, but how else could I be seeing these things?”

“Brains are weird,” Darcy says. “And sometimes amnesia is a coping mechanism.” Not a lie.

“I remember a woman,” he says abruptly.

“I’m sure there were many,” Darcy says, giving him a wink in a piss-poor attempt to cheer him up.

He smiles, slightly. “I remember those too,” he says. “This one’s different. I don’t remember her in my old life, but I know that I knew her. I don’t know who she is, but I think I may have loved her.”

Darcy bites her lip, because if it’s Natasha, and of _course_ it is, then they have a problem.

“It’ll come to you,” Darcy says. “I think. Give it time. Maybe more will come back.”

Bucky nods, resting his head against the wall.

Her phone beeps, and she whips it out and please please please for the love of Thor let it be Phil telling her that Steve is out.

_Fury just broke Steve out._

Darcy whoops, startling Bucky. “Steve’s been sprung,” she says cheerfully. 

A smile splits across his face. “Idiot needs to not get caught,” he says fondly.

Darcy grins. “I mean, yeah, but apparently punching the director of a government agency, then blowing through twelve separate security teams doesn’t fly under the radar.”

Bucky laughs, and it’s infectious. Darcy finds herself giggling as well. 

“I’m going to tell the others,” Darcy says. “You can come down or you can wait for him here.”

“I’ll wait,” Bucky says. “Thanks.”

“All right,” Darcy says, and goes downstairs to tell the rest of the team.

As it turns out, Thor is the only one left awake, the others all having succumbed to fatigue (and in Tony and Clint’s cases, drugs). Darcy looks over them fondly (it’s practically like having children... headstrong, prone-to-death-defying-stunts children) before going down to the garage. She wants answers from Natasha, and even though she’s ninety percent sure that she’s never wanted to sleep more in her entire life, she’s a hundred percent sure that she needs the story from Natasha. So... Sleep later.

*          *          *

Nick Fury is many things- a liar, manipulative, occasionally a dick of the highest degree- but one thing he isn’t is a fool.

He watches onscreen as Rogers makes his way out of headquarters and into the street, where Pepper, with the slightest hint from Phil, has discreetly arranged for a pick-up. 

Fury wonders if the very-capable Pepper Potts would ever consider working for S.H.I.E.L.D., and files the thought away in the back of his mind. It’s common knowledge in the upper echelon of S.H.I.E.L.D. that if Phil and Pepper were so inclined, they could probably rule the world within days. Fury’s aware of this, and puts more stock in the theory than most.

He doesn’t turn to look at Hill when she comes to stand by him. “Sir,” she says, and she sounds slightly irritated.

“Yes, Agent?” He doesn’t take his eye off of the security screens until he’s sure that Rogers is away. 

“Agent Levine has requested to be removed from the Initiative.”

“Denied,” Fury says. “It’s too soon still.”

“Yes, sir,” Hill says sharply, turning on her heel and briskly striding away.

Fury takes a deep breath, lets it back out in a heavy sigh. There’s a headache coming on. He needs a drink.

 

 

 

 

 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So beyond sorry for the long wait and the filler chapter! I'm not altogether pleased with this one but I figured that this is about as exciting as it's going to get this time around...
> 
> Next time will feature a reunion scene and a glimpse into Natasha's past and of course, the ever-persistent Darcy we've come to know and love.
> 
> Thanks for reading and kudos-ing and commenting! You all are lovely!


	11. A Reunion and a Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Bucky are reunited- finally. The team is not sure how comfortable they are with this.
> 
> Meanwhile, Darcy has a talk with Natasha and things become a little clearer (or maybe not, this is Natasha, after all).

Darcy runs into Steve on her way out. He looks a little like he’s about to faint.

She grins at him and goes up on her toes to wrap her arms around him and give him a hug. 

He shakes under her hold, just a bit, and she hugs him even more tightly. 

He returns it, and when she finally pulls away, there is a small smile on his face that speaks volumes- trepidation and nervous excitement and _joy_.

She says nothing, because there is nothing to say, and if she wipes away a tear as she grabs the keys to Tony’s Bugatti, nobody but J.A.R.V.I.S. has to know.

*          *          *

“So,” Clint drawls, “Is it a massive invasion of privacy to watch the reunion?”

They’re all awake again, if a little groggy.

“Yes,” Bruce says firmly.

Clint shrugs easily, then winces. Ribs. Goddamn.

“I must agree with the good doctor,” Thor says solemnly. “It is Steven’s right to speak to his old brother-in-arms without us looking on. We must give him this honor.”

Tony says, “J.A.R.V.I.S., don’t record anything in Steve’s quarters right now.”

“Sir, is that wise?” 

Tony hesitates, because, well, he records _everything_ that goes on in the fucking tower. But Bruce and Thor are right, and Steve _does_ deserve this. “Yeah,” he says. “Just... let us know if we need to intervene for some reason.”

“Of course, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says smoothly.

*          *          *

Steve stands there, not knowing what to say. It’s stupid, he knows, because he’s thought of a hundred things, a million things, that he would want to say to Bucky when he thought Bucky was dead, and now that he’s here and alive and standing in front of him... Nothing. He can’t think of anything.

He’s just drinking in the sight of his old friend, cataloguing what has changed and what hasn’t, studying the familiar way Bucky is holding his head cocked slightly, chin up just a tad. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes, always so expressive, are sharp as always. That’s Bucky though, Steve thinks, all sharp tongue and dry wit and an edge to his personality that sometimes bordered on rude.

It’s when a lopsided smile plays across Bucky’s face that Steve can’t help himself, and he sort of lunges forward and envelopes his best friend into a hug, the sort that leaves bruises. Bucky returns the embrace warmly, and for a second they take comfort in each other.

When Steve finally lets Bucky go, he blurts out, “I’m sorry.”

Bucky tilts his head to the side, and no, that gesture hasn’t changed a bit. “There’s nothing to be sorry for,” he says, voice rough with emotion. “Don’t be a jackass. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I told you to come with me,” Steve says desperately, because it’s true, he _did_ , he hadn’t asked Bucky to come, he had _told_ him to. “I made you come.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I wanted to, though,” he says. “I wouldn’t have let you go without me.”

“You could have lived,” Steve says, still unable to shake the feeling that he should have done something to stop Bucky from falling.

“I _am_ living, you punk,” Bucky says, exasperation coloring his voice now, and Steve almost smiles because it’s that familiar. 

“I should have at least looked for you,” Steve says. “I shouldn’t have thought you were dead.”

“For the love of _Christ_ ,” Bucky says, and now he sounds angry, “ _Why on Earth would you think I had survived_?”

And that, at least, is true. There should have been no way Bucky could have lived.

“But-” Steve starts.

Bucky steps forward, holding up a hand to cut him off. “I swear to God, you jackass, if you try to blame yourself for this, I will kick your ass and not even feel sorry.”

“As if you could,” Steve says easily, falling back into their trash-talking routine.

“You’re bigger than you used to be,” Bucky admits, grinning like a shark (it reminds him of Tony, a little), “But I bet I could still take you.”

“I missed you,” Steve says suddenly, because he needs to say it.

Something softens in Bucky’s eyes. “Me too, buddy. They tell me Brooklyn ain’t what it used to be, either.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s different,” he says. “Maybe not better... But not worse, either. It’s not worse. Tony and the others, they’ve been great. They’re not the Commandos, but they’re my team-”

“Your Avengers,” Bucky says, and he’s smiling sadly. “Tell you what, buddy, get me a drink for old times’ sake and tell me about them. I want to know about them, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve says readily. “Tony keeps refilling my kitchen with booze even though I _can’t fucking get drunk anymore_ , so it’s not like it’s any use.”

“I like him already,” Bucky deadpans, following Steve from the room.

*          *           *

“Darcy,” Phil says pleasantly in greeting.

Darcy examines him, the bags under his eyes, the way he’s holding himself- as if he’d like nothing more than to lie down for a few minutes.

“Go home to Clint,” she says abruptly. “He needs you.” A non sequitur if there ever was one, and a lie to boot. But sometimes she worries that Phil doesn’t take enough care with himself, and if she needs to exploit his relationship with Clint to get him to take a break, she will.

“Is something wrong?” His eyes bore into her.

“He’s on a cocktail of drugs, hates when he’s not under perfect control of himself, has been removed from the team, and hasn’t seen you in hours. What do you think?” None of that is a lie, Darcy tells herself. Natasha, lounging like a cat on the couch, narrows her eyes at Darcy but doesn’t say anything, which means she condones Darcy’s actions.

“You just want me to go home,” Phil accuses.

“Guilty as charged,” Darcy admits, shrugging. “But seriously, you need rest and Clint really _hasn’t_ seen you in hours. It’ll do you both good.”

“I need to-” Phil starts to say, but Natasha says firmly, “It can wait.”

“Well,” he says, sounding irritated and fond at once, “If you both insist.”

“We do,” Darcy says, smiling sweetly.

Phil rubs a hand across his face. “Fine,” he says. “Fine.”

When Phil is out of the office, Natasha sits up and says to Darcy, “I’m starved. Let’s go get something to eat, and then you can be your nosy self over food. You’re buying.”

“Fair enough,” Darcy says, not surprised that Natasha knows what she’s up to. “I brought the Bugatti.”

“I’m driving,” Natasha says with a predatory smile.

*          *          *

“So what’s the deal with this Darcy dame?” Bucky says, not slurring at all. Steve’s a bit impressed, because Bucky’s consumed a near-Tony amount of alcohol in the past two hours. Then again, Bucky’s always held his liquor exceptionally well.

“What about her?” Steve takes a sip of scotch. It’s not like he can get drunk, but the scotch goes down smoothly.

“She doesn’t like me,” Bucky complains. “Figures that the first gorgeous dame I talk to in years doesn’t like me.”

“She likes you fine,” Steve says, smiling. “But I think she has a thing for Bruce. Dr. Banner.”

“Damn,” Bucky sighs, drawing the word out. He doesn’t sound particularly upset as he knocks back another shot of vodka.

“You’re going to be sorry in the morning,” Steve warns. Bucky really has had a lot to drink.

“I’ll worry about the morning when the morning gets here,” Bucky replies, and it’s an exchange they’ve had a hundred times, back before the war and before the serum and before _now_.

It’s a relief to know that some things really won’t change.

Steve takes in a breath, lets it out in a contented and long-suffering sort of sigh.

Bucky throws a bottle cap at him. Even completely wasted, his aim is impeccable, and he hits Steve square on the forehead.

“You’re almost as bad as Clint,” Steve complains, but he doesn’t mean it. 

Bucky’s mouth splits into a grin. “I _like_ him. There’s a guy I’d want on my side.”

“You should see him shoot,” Steve says. 

“Rifle?”

“If he has to,” Steve says. “He prefers his bow.”

The dumbfounded look on Bucky’s face reduces Steve to laughter.

*          *          *

Phil arrives to a rather tense team- sans Steve and Natasha, of course. _Mythbusters_ is playing on the television, but nobody seems to be paying attention (although they’re all staring blankly at the screen), and that’s strange, because it’s one of their collective favorites.

“Hello,” he says quietly. Clint, of course, registered exactly when he came in three minutes ago. The others haven’t.

Tony visibly starts, Bruce’s eyes snap all the way open, and Thor scrambles to his feet. Clint sends Phil a lazy smile and a little wave.

“Everyone out,” Phil says sternly. “You all sitting here in silence, worrying about Steve- that’s not accomplishing anything. You all need rest. Get some.”

There are some token protests, but they really _are_ tired, Phil can tell. It doesn’t take much persuasion to get them all out and into their rooms (well, actually, Phil makes Thor bodily carry Tony to _his_ room, because Tony can’t be trusted not to sneak down into his workshop). 

“J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Phil says, “I really think it’s in Tony’s best interests to sleep for a few hours.”

“I would have to agree, Agent Coulson,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says drily. 

“Good,” Phil says.

Bruce ambles out with a wave, and then it’s just Clint left.

“When’s the last time _you_ slept?” Clint’s eyes are all too knowing.

“Recently,” Phil says evasively, although he’s not fooling Clint.

“Forty?” Clint guesses. “Forty-two.”

Phil shakes his head ruefully. 

Clint narrows his eyes. “Forty-seven.”

“Close enough,” Phil concedes. (Fifty-four hours and counting, but he’s not about to tell Clint that.)

“I could do with some rest,” Clint says pointedly. “It’s these drugs. Can’t keep my eyes open.”

Phil is perfectly aware that Clint’s lying- Clint has gotten more sleep in the past week than any of the others put together, and while he is on some strong meds, he has too much control over himself to give himself over to chemically-induced fatigue when he’s well-rested. But Clint knows, has always known, that Phil sleeps better when he’s not alone.

“Well,” he says, because really, he can think of worse things than Clint and a warm bed, “We’d better get you upstairs.”

“Yes, sir,” Clint says, and hits a button on the hoverchair that sends him flying towards the elevator.

Phil just stands there for a moment, stunned. He finds his voice soon enough. “For fuck’s sake, Clint, don’t you dare break anything else in your body.”

*          *          *

“I don’t even like sushi,” Darcy complains, but she doesn’t really mind. She’s going to get fried tempura and miso soup anyway.

“Spider rolls,” Natasha says, not even cracking a smile.

“Oh my Thor,” Darcy says disbelievingly. “You’re joking.”

Natasha shrugs, completely serious. “It’s a little ironic, I’ll admit. I just like soft shell crab. It isn’t my fault that it’s called a spider roll.”

“It’s ridiculous, is what it is,” Darcy says.

Natasha points her chopsticks at Darcy. “Not another word about my fondness for spider rolls. I could kill you fifteen different ways with these chopsticks without leaving my chair.”

“You’re terrifying,” Darcy says completely honestly. “Now I’m not sure I want to interrogate you.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “A necessary evil,” she says. “It has to be done, because you, Darcy Lewis, are incapable of leaving things alone.”

“Point,” Darcy says cheerfully. “So, you and Bucky. What’s the deal?”

Natasha says, calmly, “He taught me. Back in the Red Room. We grew too close and he began to remember things that made him human and they put him back under.”

“Okay,” Darcy says, drawing the word out, making it clear that she’s not satisfied with that.

Natasha huffs, impatiently. “We were lovers once.”

“YES!!” Darcy practically shrieks. The other diners look at her, startled. There’s one gentleman with his spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth.

Natasha glares and pointedly waves her chopsticks at Darcy.

“You loved him,” Darcy says with relish, but more quietly.

“We understood each other,” Natasha allows. “He wasn’t Bucky back then, you know. Not completely.”

“Enough, though,” Darcy says. “He _must_ have retained some of his personality.”

“I think so,” Natasha admits. “Although there were times when he drew blanks. It was the programming. It’s hard to keep a hold of yourself. He did as well as could be expected. He helped me get out. I owe him.”

“He remembers you,” Darcy says. “I think.”

Natasha frowns, ever so slightly. “He shouldn’t, though,” she says. “He shouldn’t remember anything from the Winter Soldier days.”

“But he _does_ ,” Darcy says. “He gets... flashes, he said. Pictures and feelings. He doesn’t remember, but he _will_ , and then what?” She’s desperate to know, because for some reason she’s already accepted Bucky into her fold, and if _anyone_ knows how it feels to suddenly have memories in your head that you didn’t think were there before... if _anyone_ knows how it is to not be able to trust their own mind... 

Natasha shakes her head. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t. It’s different for everyone. I can’t tell you how or when. He may never remember completely. He may remember tomorrow and be destroyed by what he’s done. There’s no way to know.”

Which is just about the most unhelpful answer Darcy could have hoped for, but she knows Natasha’s not lying.

“Okay,” Darcy says. “It’s fine. We’ll figure it out. We always do, yeah?”

Natasha’s lips quirk into a small smile. “We always do,” she agrees.

“But for the love of Thor,” Darcy says, “Can we order some sake? Please?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's so short! I thought a short chapter was better than no chapter, and it seemed like a good stopping point! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's been reading and enjoying it! It's really rewarding to know people like it! So again, a million thanks for the kudos and the comments and the views... and everything. 
> 
> Happy early Halloween! (Maybe there will be a Halloween fic in my other series?)


	12. J.A.R.V.I.S. May be Many Things, but He Is Not Precognitive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot of thinking, and talking, and blowing off steam with sparring. In the end, it doesn't matter, because Tony. It's always Tony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, a thousand apologies for the über-late update. School as been hectic and then my laptop charger overheated and I couldn't use my laptop for a week (worst week ever)...
> 
> Hopefully you enjoy this chapter, and the next one should not take so long!! Please enjoy! Thank you for sticking with me and the story!

“Um,” Barnes says, and there is only the slightest bit of anxiety in his voice, which is frankly impressive considering the situation. “Is that supposed to-?”

“Yeah, it’s just Butterfingers, don’t worry about him,” Tony says, not paying attention. There’s a few adjustments he wants to make first, and yeah, he’s tired, but that doesn’t mean he’s about to give Barnes a half-assed arm. And that was a strange phrase. Half-assed arm.

“How much sleep did you get?” Barnes asks cautiously.

“A few hours,” Tony says. “Don’t worry, I’m used to running on less sleep than this.”

“Not comforting, Stark,” Barnes says, but when Tony glances up, he sees a sharp grin on the other man’s face.

“You nag more than Steve does,” Tony says, but without malice.

“Who do you think kept him alive all those years? And during the Depression, to boot?” Bucky demands. He sounds indignant more than anything.

“Mmm,” Tony says, losing track of the conversation entirely. “Hey, how much motor control do you have in that hand?”

“Enough?” Barnes says hesitantly.

“Wrong!” Tony announces. “Not nearly enough. This arm is going to blow your fucking mind. And it shouldn’t give you any pain. Now, there will probably be a slight delay from thought to action, but still much faster than that rust bucket you have on now.”

There’s an odd look on Barnes’ face when Tony finally remembers to look up. “What?”

“I don’t need another arm,” Barnes says slowly, as if Tony’s a small child.

“Yes,” Tony says equally slowly, “You do. This one is better. It’s lighter. It should react faster. It won’t hurt your shoulder. Let me do this for you.”

“I don’t know why you’re doing this,” Barnes says, and maybe there’s a hint of suspicion in his eyes. Distrust, even.

Tony stops fiddling with the arm and turns to face him fully. “Fine,” he says. “You want me to be honest here? I’m not doing this for you. I don’t know you from Jesus. What I _do_ know is that you’re Steve’s best friend, and I owe it to _him_ to make you as comfortable as I possibly can. So if it makes you feel better, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for him. And no, he didn’t ask me to, but there are some things that are expected of me, and you know, I don’t mind a challenge. I am a fucking genius and I appreciate work that makes me think. Your arm? Makes me think. And I’ve done it. It’s better than the one you’re wearing now. And best of all, this one has a back-door switch that will let someone else control it if you’re not yourself. That arm you’re wearing now? If it decides to go apeshit on us, it could kill us. It could kill _Steve._ With this arm, you won’t do anything you’ll regret. I have a remote-control setting built into my suits, just in case I’m compromised. I figured you’d appreciate having the same option.”

Barnes looks at him sharply, blue eyes dark. Then he smiles, a little bitterly, and shrugs off his shirt. “Come on, then, Stark. Wouldn’t want to disappoint Steve, would we?”

Tony wonders if he should maybe feel insulted, but the words are true enough, so he goes over to the other man. He reaches for the attachments, and Barnes flinches imperceptibly. And Tony, well, Tony knows how that goes; he’s frozen more than once when someone gets close to the reactor unexpectedly. So he doesn’t make a fuss, but he does stop where he is, withdraw, and say, “You can take it off yourself.”

There’s a hint of frustration in Barnes’ eyes as he says, “No, it’s fine, you’re fine. Keep going.”

“That’s what she said,” Tony says automatically, then realizes belatedly that neither Darcy nor Clint are around to hear him. He sighs petulantly when Barnes raises one eyebrow at him. “Never mind,” he says, and reaches out for the arm again.

It detaches easily enough, but Barnes’ skin is rubbed raw underneath, old scarring clearly visible. “Fuck,” Tony says, “And you told me this didn’t hurt you. You liar.”

He shrugs in response, and Tony isn’t sure whether it’s acceptable to laugh at a man with only one arm shrugging, and decides that Bruce would probably disapprove, so he doesn’t laugh.

“Look,” he says instead, “How do you feel about letting that heal up before I attach the new one?”

“No,” Barnes says immediately. “I just- It’s fine, just put it on.”

Tony crosses his arms. “Sit down. I’m not putting this arm on you while your little stub-thing is bleeding.”

Barnes opens his mouth to protest. 

Tony grabs him by the shoulders and steers him to the couch. “Stay here,” he says. “Let me at least get someone to take care of that.”

“Jesus Christ,” Barnes says. “You do not understand the meaning of the word ‘no,’ do you?”

Tony grins. “Now you’re getting it.”

*          *          *

“Steve,” Darcy says. “You need to stop. Everything will be fine.”

Steve rubs the bridge of his nose wearily. “I can’t _stop_ , Darcy. I don’t know what to do.”

“We’re going for a walk,” Darcy says sternly. “Because _you_ need to stop worrying. It will work out.” 

Steve smiles a little, face clearing for a moment.

“Fine,” he says.

Darcy beams at him. “Good,” she says. “And you can talk it out. I’m a very good listener.”

Steve raises an eyebrow at her. “You’re really not,” he says, but he’s grinning.

*          *          *

“What’s Nat going to do?” Clint asks, looking sidelong at Phil.

“Whatever Steve asks her to do.”

“Mmm,” Clint says, satisfied. “Good.”

Phil pulls Clint closer to him, gently, mindful of his injuries. “Go to sleep so I can get some rest.”

“Mmph,” Clint says, and curls into Phil as much as he can without hurting himself.

*          *          *

Bucky eyes Bruce cautiously.

Bruce drops his hands to his sides. “Look,” he says, and his voice is low and even. Like he’s trying to soothe a wild animal, Bucky thinks bitterly. “If you don’t want me to look at the shoulder, I won’t. I’ll tell Tony to back off. I know how he gets.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky says, and turns his body so that the stump of his arm is facing Bruce.

Bruce checks it with gentle hands, cleans it, and wraps it with gauze. He doesn’t make small talk as he works, which, oddly enough, reassures Bucky more than anything.

“Okay,” Bruce says presently, “It’d be best to keep it wrapped for today, and then hold off on fitting the new arm until you’re healed completely. I’m sure the arm Tony’s built you won’t rub, but it’s still best that you wait for a few days.”

“I heal quickly,” Bucky says. An image flashes behind his eyes- white, and swirling snow, and cold, stainless steel.

Bruce’s hands still. “Do you?”

“Yes,” Bucky says. “Probably has something to do with the fact that I’m still alive.”

“I suppose so,” Bruce agrees.

*          *          *

“So,” Darcy says, drawing out the single syllable. “Your pal Bucky, huh?”

Steve manages a half smile. “It’s a little strange for me,” he admits. “I think it’s too good to be true.”

“Well,” Darcy says, because she’s quite realistic when she wants to be, “It probably is. We’ll probably run into some speed bumps before this is all over.”

“Like Natasha,” Steve says, and yes, that’s the crux of the matter.

“Mm,” Darcy says noncommittally. 

“I can’t have her dodge Bucky forever,” Steve sighs.

“She would leave, if you asked her to,” Darcy points out. “She told me as much.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve says. “I’m not going to ask her to leave. I just... I just need to figure out a good way for him to see her.”

Darcy allows herself to be relieved, because it’s not that she _really_ thought Steve would ask Natasha to leave the team, not that the others would allow it, but it’s good to confirm that he would never.

“Well,” Darcy says. “His arm’s off now. And likely to be off for at least a day or two.” Okay, so she’s been getting regular updates from Bruce. Sue her.

Steve stops in his tracks. “What?”

“Yeah,” Darcy says, grinning. “So... Have them go to the gym. We’ll have Thor and Tony supervise. Worst comes to worst, we hit Bucky with a tranq. No harm done.”

“Okay,” Steve says, and she’s sure she’s not imagining the relief in his voice. “Thanks, Darce, it’s just _hard_ , with Buck back, and Clint and Tony are off active duty and I don’t know what I’m doing-”

“Steve,” Darcy says sternly. “You’re in charge of this team for a reason. But it wouldn’t kill you to ask for help once in a while.”

She tugs him to a bench, and for a moment, everything seems like it’s going to be okay, because there is something magical about sitting in the middle of Central Park in late October when the leaves are turning color.

And of course, because the universe actually hates them, something _big_ crashes into the trees. “For the love of _Christ_ ,” Darcy says, “Can’t we catch a fucking break?!”

Steve doesn’t waste his breath, instead grabbing Darcy and shoving her out of harm’s way. “Darcy, alert the team.”

“Um,” Darcy says, as she goes for her gun. “Your team is a little shorthanded. Want to tag the X-Men for this one? It is _really_ about time they contributed to the ‘keep-New-York-relatively-in-one-piece’ effort.”

“Okay,” Steve says, surprising her.

“Really?!” Darcy blurts. Then, “I mean, yes, of course, I’ll get on that. Right now. I am thrilled with this decision. Ecstatic.”

Steve gives her a weary grin. “Logan’s been complaining that we’re hogging the fights. And half my team is indisposed. They can have this one.”

“Oh thank _God_ ,” Darcy says, and calls Scott. She wonders what it says about her that she has Scott Summers _and_ Sue Storm on speed dial, in addition to her own team, and decides that it indicates that she faces end-of-the-world situations far too often.

*          *          *

“Lady Natasha,” Thor says.

Natasha’s at the firing range, and if it had been anyone but Thor speaking, she probably wouldn’t have heard. But it _is_ Thor, and so she flicks the safety on and turns to face him.

“Hello,” she says. Raises an eyebrow, because Thor really ought to be back at the tower in case there’s a security breach, especially since Tony and Clint aren’t in top form.

“Would you care to spar? I fear that I am restless, and could do with some physical exertion.”

Thor is lying. He doesn’t need physical exertion. And anyway, Natasha reflects dryly, if he really wanted physical exertion, Jane lives at the Tower now and is usually down for a quickie. But this is Thor being kind, and offering to spar with her until she’s too tired to care about James being back or Clint almost dying ( _again_ ) or not having Phil as their handler. 

“Okay,” she says. “That’d be good.”

It is good. She hasn’t had such a cathartic sparring session in _ages_ , but she whales away on Thor, because he gives as good as he gets and she has no qualms about doing him any real damage- she’s seen him get swatted into a brick building and come up laughing.

So she’s brutal and efficient, and he doesn’t pull his own punches, and doesn’t even apologize after he throws her against the wall so hard that she blacks out for a second. (Steve still does occasionally, as if he can’t stop the apology from escaping his mouth, but it’s kind of endearing so Natasha deals with it.) She recovers quickly enough, though, and has him pinned. Thor just laughs.

“I beliee you and Lady Sif would enjoy each other’s company greatly,” he says.

Natasha grins, and she knows she must be a mess- her left cheekbone is bruised and her lip is cut and her ankle is throbbing and her hair is _everywhere_ , but she feels better, she does.

And all at once, the fight goes out of her and she relaxes.

“Thanks, Thor,” she says. “Really.”

“Any time you wish to expend your energy in this fashion, I would be happy to assist you,” Thor says, smiling. “I always enjoy sparring with you.”

*          *          *

“No, seriously,” Stark says. “You don’t remember _anything_? Even with Xavier probing through your brain?”

“That guy creeped me out, a little,” Bucky says thoughtfully, and knocks back another shot.

“Yeah, he is, a bit,” Stark says. “But his heart’s in the right place. Sort of. He means well.”

“So, it turns out,” Bucky says, dropping the subject, “That it is _really_ difficult for me to get drunk.” He skips the shot glass and just goes for the vodka.

“Hmm,” Stark says. “Steve can’t either.” He takes a sip from his coke. Stark hasn’t had a drink all night, which Bucky thinks is maybe odd from what Darcy has mentioned of the man.

Bucky’s never really been one to keep his mouth shut, so he says bluntly, “Why aren’t you drinking? I’ve heard plenty of things about you, and abstaining from drinking was never on the list.”

Stark smiles. It isn’t terribly friendly, but not entirely unfriendly either. “I don’t make it a habit of getting wasted when I’m planning to attach an entirely revolutionary, untested prosthetic arm to a living, breathing human being. Steve would be upset if I killed you, I think.”

“I _like_ you,” Bucky says, because he does.

Stark laughs. “Yeah, you do. I’m outfitting you with the coolest fucking arm the world has ever seen. Kids will be wanting to cut off their actual, biological arms to try and get their hands- I mean, _hand_ , on one of these babies.”

“And here I was thinking I was special, Stark,” Bucky says, genuinely smiling. 

“Nah,” Stark says. “All the pretty one-armed ex-Soviet assassins who show up at my place get one.”

“ _What_?”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Stark says, eyes wide. “J.A.R.V.I.S., why didn’t you stop me?”

“I may be remarkable, sir, but even I am not able to anticipate what will come out of your mouth.”

“Wow, was that dirty? I don’t know if it was or not, I mean-”

“Stark,” Bucky says, feeling sick to his stomach. “I’ve been having these dreams.”

“Oh, no,” Stark says, eyes huge. “I don’t do feelings and I don’t do _talking_ about feelings especially, I can go get Steve for you, actually, I _will_ go get Steve for you.”

“Stark, _no_. I can’t. I don’t remember details or anything, not really, but I think I remember the facilities and the guns and the _killing_ and I don’t think I was the person I wanted to be-”

“You don’t know the half of it, buddy,” Stark says under his breath.

“-and I don’t want him to be _disappointed_ in me.”

“Jesus _Christ_ ,” Stark says. “He is beating himself up for not _looking_ for you, worried sick that you’ll blame him for it, that _he’s_ disappointed _you_. The two of you are more dysfunctional than all the rest of us Avengers combined and that is _saying_ something because the first time Steve and Thor and I all met, we tried to kill each other, and actually, Bruce sort of tried to kill Natasha and the first time Natasha met Bruce she had him at gunpoint, and Coulson’s the only normal one really, and even he’s killed half a HYDRA compound with nothing but a pencil and a can of shaving cream- wow, actually, we are _really_ fucked up people in general. You’ll fit right in.”

“I need a drink,” Bucky says. He has a headache.

“You’re holding a bottle of vodka,” Stark points out. “And I thought you said you can’t get drunk.”

“I can damn well try,” Bucky says, and takes a swig.


	13. There is Some Minor Fallout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy is frankly relieved that Tony let the Winter Soldier thing slip. This could be because she finally gets to sleep.
> 
> Everyone else is rather concerned.
> 
> Natasha, as it turns out, is very, very fond of one-armed former-Soviet-assassins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thousand and one apologies for the sporadic updates on this story and the shorter chapter! It's just real life getting in the way, as usual!
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and I just really, really appreciate every view and kudos and comment! They're what keep me going. (:
> 
> Also, the next update may not be for another two weeks, because I have some serious cramming to do for finals.

“Oh, hey, Tony. What’s- _you did what_?!” Darcy chokes on the hot cocoa Steve bought her.

“Darcy? Are you all right?” Steve halts and turns to look at her.

“ _Tony_ , what the fuck, seriously, dude. There was _one_ topic to avoid and you hit it head-on.”

Steve is openly staring at her now, brows furrowed in concern.

“We’re coming back. No, I’ll call her. You’re an idiot.”

“Darcy-” Steve says, looking seriously concerned now.

“See you soon,” she says. And just looks at Steve. 

“On the bright side,” she says cheerfully, “You don’t have to worry about the Natasha thing anymore. As much, at least.”

“Darcy,” Steve says, very slowly. “What did Tony say?”

“Oh,” Darcy says, and winces inwardly but keeps a smile plastered on her face. “Tony _may_ have brought up the Winter Soldier thing to Bucky-”

“ _What_?” 

“But he really didn’t mean to and Bucky really didn’t take it that badly but maybe we should get back to the tower now,” Darcy blurts out.

Steve takes a deep breath and nods.

*          *          *

Phil shifts on the bed, jostling Clint enough to send a bolt of agony through his ribs.

Clint’s breath hitches ever so slightly, and Phil turns over to look at him.

“Sorry,” Phil says, because of _course_ he noticed.

“Not your fault,” Clint says automatically, closing his eyes again. It’s happened at least seven times in the last few hours, but at least Phil’s gotten some sleep.

Phil shakes his head. “I’m sorry you’re hurt.”

Clint opens his eyes at that. “And that is definitely not your fault,” he says, half-grinning.

“It’s not funny,” Phil says, falling into his I’m-sick-and-tired-of-you-almost-dying-tone.

It’s a tone that comes up too often over the course of their relationship, but Clint figures that it’s a good sign that he cares, and he knows that he’s had that particular tone in his own voice more than once.

“I’m fine, Phil,” Clint says, because it’s true, he’s been better, but he’s been worse too.

“It should never have happened,” Phil says, sounding tired. “And I wish you hadn’t gone out with Levine.”

“Well,” Clint says, half-smiling now, “Our line of work being what it is, it’s not like I can call in sick, exactly.”

Phil sighs, and carefully raises himself so that he’s hovering over Clint. “It shouldn’t have happened,” he repeats. Clint hears the unspoken part of that sentence, the _you could have died_ floating silently between them.

“I know,” he says aloud, and he’s really saying, _But I didn’t, not this time, and I’m alive and I’m here_.

Phil leans forward cautiously and presses his lips to Clint’s. Clint automatically responds, tilting his head up and towards Phil. “Mmph,” he tries, but his tongue is entangled with Phil’s, and really he’s not sure what he was intending to say anyway.

He’s just beginning to enjoy himself when J.A.R.V.I.S. says, sounding very sorry indeed to interrupt, “Agent Coulson, we have a bit of a situation.”

Phil pulls away.

Clint sighs dramatically.

Phil rolls his eyes at him, but leans back down and brushes his lips against Clint’s before climbing out of bed, taking care not to move the mattress any more than necessary.

“Stay in bed,” he says, as he hurriedly gets dressed.

“Like hell I will,” Clint says. “Help me into the fucking Hawkmobile. I’m done with this bedrest concept.”

“Clint,” Phil says, eternally patient. “You _haven’t_ been on bedrest. You’ve been terrorizing the tower with that monstrosity of a wheelchair.”

“Just-” Clint says, because really, he’s feeling worse than useless right now, and maybe Phil sees that in his eyes, because he comes around to Clint’s side of the bed to get him into the chair.

“In any case,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says, “Agent Levine is waiting for an appointment. I have had him in one of the downstairs conference rooms for some time now.”

Clint smiles, and maybe it turns out looking a little bloodthirsty, because Phil gives him a warning look.

“He _deserves_ it,” Clint says. “And really, I’m the only one available, aren’t I?”

Phil concedes that this is true. Or at least, true enough to go along with.

“Don’t push it,” is all Phil says.

“What’s he gonna do?” Clint demands. “Kick me off the team? Oh, wait, he _already has_.”

“No,” Phil says. “I meant physically. Don’t you dare try to get out of that chair. As little physical exertion as humanly possible, got it?”

Clint just gives Phil a look, because he may be reckless, but he’s not _stupid_ ; he’s not about to set himself back another two weeks to get a rise out of Levine.

“Take some Vicodin,” Phil says.

“I’m good,” Clint says, because it’s a policy to avoid narcotics whenever possible.

Phil looks like he’s about to protest, then stops, because he understands the need to be clear-minded at all times.

“Agent Coulson,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says apologetically. “There really is something you need to see to.”

“Right, J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Phil says. “I’m sorry. What is it?”

“Sir may have revealed Lieutenant Barnes’ Winter Soldier identity to him.”

Clint winces.

Phil closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them back up, he says evenly, “Could be worse.”

Clint barks out a laugh as they both exit the room.

*          *          *

“Natasha,” Darcy says casually. “You may as well come home now.”

There’s a long suffering sigh from the other end. “ _What did Tony do?_ ”

“It was an accident,” Darcy says automatically. Because it was, really. And maybe this was for the best. In any case, it had taken quite a lot of pressure off of Steve.

A pause. Then, “ _I’ll be back at the Tower soon. Is he all right?_ ”

Darcy isn’t sure what to say, because she doesn’t know. “I’m not sure,” she says honestly, because honesty is always the best policy with Natasha. “But he won’t see Steve, and Steve is going _mad_. I think Phil’s talking to him, though.”

“ _Okay,_ ” Natasha says, sounding relieved. “ _Not so bad, then_.”

“No,” Darcy says, although she has her doubts. Then, as an afterthought, “Oh, and if you run into Levine on your way up, don’t kill him. I think Clint wants to have a little fun first.”

There is something suspiciously like a growl from the phone before the call ends, but Darcy figures that she could have imagined it.

Then again, it’s Natasha, so maybe not.

She mentally reviews everyone’s situations: Bruce and Tony in the lab (agitated, but safe). Steve, pacing his floor (definitely upset, but could be worse). Thor is still with Jane (maybe she’ll grab him to talk to Steve). Natasha en route to the Tower (yes, good). Phil with Lieutenant Barnes- Bucky- and hopefully talking him down (thank God). Clint on his way to talk to Levine (good, he’ll have fun).

She concludes that everyone is where they ought to be, and that she needs some sleep. Urgently.

She bolts for her room before she can remember anything else that needs doing.

As she dives for the bed, she says to J.A.R.V.I.S., “Can you please ask Thor to check on Steve?”

“Of course, Miss Lewis,” J.A.R.V.I.S. says. 

“Thank you,” she says blearily, voice muffled by the pillow. “Wake me up in case of emergency. And by that, I mean like, actual, world-in-mortal-peril emergency.”

“Of course, Miss Lewis,” he says again.

And then Darcy is out.

*          *          *

Natasha stands, looking up at Avengers Tower. 

She takes a breath, because this is _James_ (Yasha) but it is also Bucky and also the Winter Soldier and long-suppressed memories of the Red Room about to stare her in the face.

She’s not sure that she’s ready.

Natasha is many things, but she has never been a coward. 

She doesn’t intend to start.

She takes a moment to compose herself before walking calmly across the street.

*          *          *

“At least he liked the arm,” Tony says as he tinkers with some mechanical creation of his (it looks vaguely like a lamp with _claws_ \--Bruce is not about to ask). He’s going for lighthearted but only manages to sound strained.

“Well,” Bruce says easily, because really, Tony’s made plenty of mistakes; this one doesn’t even rank in the top ten. Hell, top twenty. “You made it, of course he liked it.”

“Bruce,” Tony says, “Stop being so _nice_. It’s sickening. And worrying. You’re going to make me think I really did screw up.”

“You did, a bit,” Bruce says, without even looking away from his data.

“That’s better,” Tony says, sounding relieved. He goes back to the lamp. “Do you think Darcy will like this?”

“Tony,” Bruce says, finally glancing up. “What on _earth_ makes you think _anyone_ would like that thing? I’m not even sure what it _is_.”

Tony examines it closely. “Honestly,” he says flippantly, “I’m not sure either. It happened during one of my engineering blackouts. Shit happens.”

“There’s something seriously wrong with you,” Bruce says, “And that is coming from someone with the alter-ego of a giant green rage monster.”

“He’s really not that bad,” Tony says earnestly. “I think he tried to give me a fist-bump last time he was out.”

“Or he tried to punch you,” Bruce says slowly, as if talking to a small child.

“No,” Tony says confidently. “The only one he really punches anymore is Thor, and I think the big guy sort of enjoys it.”

“Definitely something wrong with you,” Bruce mutters.

*          *          *

Phil finds Barnes at one of Tony’s mini-bars, staring blankly into the bottom of a glass.

He doesn’t say anything, just pours himself a drink and sits down two stools away from Barnes. 

It takes some time, but eventually Barnes says, “I’m surprised you let Steve break me out.”

Phil takes a moment, trying to decide how to make sure not to spook Barnes. He finally says, “Should I have stopped him?”

Barnes looks up at him, and there’s something in his eyes that reminds Phil of Natasha’s early days. “Maybe you should have,” he says bitterly. “Fuck, the things I’ve done-”

And now there’s a blankness to his face that is too much like Clint’s after Loki, and Phil realizes with sudden and unshakeable certainty that Barnes is _his_ , is _theirs_ , and the C.I.A. and the W.S.C. and anyone else who has a problem with that can just fuck off. Barnes is going to be part of this team, and Phil is willing to bet everything he owns that this is part of Nick’s endgame.

It occurs to him that he seems to have a habit of picking up strays. 

“Everyone here,” Phil says quietly. “Every single one of us. We’ve made mistakes that have cost _lives_. We’ve killed people that didn’t deserve to be killed. We’ve made some decisions that are hard to defend.  We _all_ have innocent blood on our hands. We’ve done things we regret, and most of us have done them fully under our own control.”

“I remember killing children,” Barnes says dully. “I killed entire families because it was my mission. I killed _infants_ in their mother’s arms.”

From where he is sitting, Phil can see the door. Barnes cannot.

Natasha has appeared in the doorway, looking more disheveled than she usually does, but calm and collected nonetheless. There is an odd look on her face as she looks at Barnes.

“So you have red in your ledger,” Phil says, taking a risk, and is rewarded by Barnes’ sharp glance.

“I used to know-” Barnes starts to say, and then Natasha steps into the room, treading heavily, making sure that they hear her coming.

Barnes spins on his stool and stares.

“James,” Natasha says, and her voice doesn’t shake.

Phil didn’t expect it to.

“Nat,” Barnes says, his voice thick with emotion. He starts to reach for her automatically, and pulls back abruptly, as if he had thought better of it.

“No,” Natasha says, and she sounds gentle, gentle like she is with Bruce right after he turns back from an involuntary transformation, gentle like she is with Clint on his bad nights. She goes to him, and pulls him into her arms.

He stays stiff, as if he isn’t sure what to do, but then he seems to settle into routine or habit or history and relaxes into her embrace, burying his face into her hair, taking gulps of air like he’s drowning.

Natasha meets Phil’s eyes, and there’s something fiercely protective in her gaze.

Phil nods at her and slips out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... one last note. Expect quite a bit of interaction between Bucky and Natasha in the near future, as well as some more interaction between Steve and Bucky, and also Clint having a conversation with your favorite S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. (Also, if I can manage to make it fit properly in the upcoming chapter, a bit of a confrontation/conversation between Phil and Nick. )


	14. Once Soviet Assassin Best Friends, Always Soviet Assassin Best Friends?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has a chat with Levine. It's rather therapeutic.
> 
> Thor is more than just a big blonde guy with a hammer.
> 
> Natalia and James were best friends. Perhaps Natasha and Bucky can also be best friends.
> 
> (And it turns out, sneaky Fury is sneaky.)

Clint makes his way to the meeting room with the full intention of having himself some fun. He hasn’t had a chance to really tear into any S.H.I.E.L.D. agents since he took up the Avengers, because, as it turns out, when the world is ending every other Tuesday, there’s not very much time to mess with his coworkers.

The downsides to being a superhero.

He’s actually more excited than he ought to be, and maybe J.A.R.V.I.S. sensed his need for theatricality (and Clint understands theatricality; he was practically raised in a circus for fuck’s sake), because as he approaches the conference room Levine is in, J.A.R.V.I.S. _slams_ open the sliding doors. Clint didn’t even know that was possible.

Then he remembers that J.A.R.V.I.S., while not human, is very much a person, and very much devoted to Tony, and Levine kicked Tony off the team, too.

So he goes with the slammed sliding doors, flying his hoverchair and landing gracefully, but with enough force to make a heavy thud.

Levine cocks an eyebrow, looking bored.

“I believe that I requested to speak to my team,” he says.

Clint shrugs, gives a wide grin, the one that Darcy says reminds her of a shark. “Well,” he says, “Sadly, everyone else seems to be rather indisposed at the moment, so you get little old me.”

Levine says shortly, “I have nothing to discuss with you, Barton.”

“You’re shit out of luck, then,” Clint says, “Because I have something to discuss with you.”

“I won’t take disrespect from a subordinate, Barton,” Levine says, eyes narrowed.

“I don’t actually believe I’m a subordinate, _Agent_ ,” Clint says. “Maybe before, when you were my handler. But you aren’t my handler anymore, are you?”

Levine’s lips nearly disappear. “Fine,” he says. “What would you like to discuss?”

“For starters,” Clint says, eyes glinting, “What in the name of hell makes you think you can make this team work without Tony?”

“I think it will work fine,” Levine says, arms crossed. “The man doesn’t know how to take an order. It’ll get people killed one of these days.”

“Honestly,” Clint says, “It saves my ass more often than not, so I’m probably a bit biased. But aside from that...” Clint pauses.

He isn’t even sure what the fuck he’s doing.

Tony doesn’t need Clint to stick up for him; Tony’s capable of doing that himself.

But still, Clint reasons, just because Tony doesn’t _need_ him to doesn’t mean he doesn’t _want_ to. And Levine is such an ass, really.

So he forges onward with whatever the hell he’s planning to say.

And, well, who’s he kidding? He has no plans. Sometimes he opens his mouth and words just spill out. 

“You get rid of Tony,” Clint says, “What does that leave you? Well, you kicked me off too, so now you’re down to four. You think Natasha is more loyal to you than she is to me or Tony? Next mistake you make in the field, and you will, because you’re an idiot, she’ll walk. Fury’ll be upset, but he won’t pursue her, because he’ll be waiting for the next person to leave the team. You know who’ll be the next to go? Bruce. On bad days, Tony’s the only thing that keeps him on the team. Bruce’ll have bad days. We all do. And, well, shit, you suspended Tony indefinitely. That’ll leave you with Thor and Cap. Steve doesn’t trust you. He doesn’t trust Fury, really. More than half his team is gone, and whoever you get to replace us? Won’t be the same. He’ll try and stick around because he’s a good man, a great one, even, and he thinks it’s his responsibility. But one day, there’ll be an attack, and we’ll go out. Tasha and Bruce and Tony and I. And if Tony tells Steve Rogers that we need Captain America? He’ll come. And Thor will come with him. And you will be the S.H.I.E.L.D. handler that managed to alienate the most powerful team of superheroes in the goddamn world.”

Levine doesn’t appear fazed. “And Agent Barton, what I think is that you overestimate both your own importance, and Iron Man’s. The team will adjust. They will adapt. And maybe in time you can come out on missions again, if we ever need a marksman.”

And then, to Clint’s own surprise, he just smiles says, “We’ll see who’s right, won’t we? Give it a month.” 

He’s sure, surer of this than anything else in his life--his team will not leave him hanging, not like this. 

This is one bet Levine is not going to win.

And without saying another word, he takes to the air and leaves the room.

J.A.R.V.I.S. slams the doors shut behind him.

Clint smirks. 

Life is good.

*          *          *

“Steven,” Thor says.

Steve is sitting in his bedroom, carefully handling old photos. “Look,” he says, and there is a strange note to his voice. It could be fondness. Or sadness. Or wistfulness. Or, Thor reflects, all of them, because the heart is a complex thing.

He walks over to Steve, seats himself besides him on the floor.

Thor studies the photographs that Steve hands them. There are quite a lot of pictures of Steve’s old team, the Howling Commandos. In nearly all of them, Thor spots the man with the metal arm. Or rather, when he looks at James Barnes now, he catches a glimpse of the man in the photographs. 

In the photograph, Barnes looks a bit younger, definitely more relaxed and at peace, although not carefree in the slightest.

Thor forgets, often, what a heavy toll war and battle takes on mortal lives.

It is different, he imagines, when one is nearly immortal, and if a war is lost, can wait a few millennia until the time to strike comes again.

“Sometimes,” he says slowly, “It is wise for a man to take time to find himself so that he is neither defined by his past nor those that surround him. You yourself did this thing, did you not?”

Steve says heavily, “I just want him to be okay.”

“A noble sentiment,” Thor says. “And an understandable one. But there are some things a man must do for himself. Perhaps your friend needs to remember who he is on his own. Perhaps he wishes to define himself without having to depend on your memories of him.”

“I need him to know that I trust him. I still trust him as much as I ever did.”

Thor is, by nature and by birth, a leader.

On Midgard, he consents to be led because Steven Rogers is as pure of heart as anyone Thor has ever met. There is no shame in following, when you choose your leader well.

He looks at Steve now, sitting with his head bowed, hands moving restlessly among the photos.

“Steven Rogers,” Thor says solemnly, a note of command ringing in his voice.

Steve looks up automatically.

“You are the best man I know,” Thor says, “Mortal or otherwise, and I know a great deal of good and noble men. Your friend, your shield-brother will undoubtedly return to you, but you must trust him to do so.”

Steve sighs. “I know you’re right,” he says. “I just want to skip this waiting part.”

Thor smiles, a little. “I think it not wise for mortals to time-jump. Matters seem to get rather complicated.”

Steve’s lips twitch, just a little. 

Thor relaxes.

“Come, brother,” he says easily. “Let us go to the training room. We can try some of Anthony’s new programs.”

*          *          *

Natasha strokes James’ hair, his back, his face.

Physical contact has always grounded him.

James is shaking ever so slightly, and he’s mumbling something under his breath, and Natasha can’t make out what he’s saying, but the self-loathing tone in his voice is clear. She lets him talk into her hair, lets him hold on to her and lets him _breathe_.

It’s familiar, because he’s done the same for her, and she for him, back when they were both still trying to find themselves, back when they had to struggle to bring themselves back to the surface after the Red Room wiped them clean of everything that ought to have made them _real_.

When he finally pulls away, she takes a good look at him. He looks as if he’s hardly aged a day, and that’s not odd, considering the fact that he’s probably had some variation of the serum from both H.Y.D.R.A. and the Red Room.

“Your hair is shorter,” he remarks, trying for normalcy. He doesn’t quite hit it.

“Yes,” she agrees absently, as he runs her curls through his fingers.

She touches him gently, her hands brushing through his hair fondly before she moves on to his body, checking for injuries. Old habits die hard, she supposes, and there isn’t really a need, because even if the C.I.A. mistreated him (as they were wont to do with prisoners that didn’t technically exist), he’d be nearly healed already. But she suspects that it comforts him, to have her hands checking his shoulders and running along his ribs and making sure that he’s okay. 

If she’s honest with herself, and she always is, it comforts her, too.

She frowns in earnest when she finds that two of his ribs are cracked- healing, but cracked all the same.

She doesn’t press down, but she stills when she finds them.

James says roughly, “It’s fine. They’re almost better. Don’t tell-” and he stops, as if he shouldn’t utter Steve’s name.

“All right,” she says, placating, and she knows that he hates it when she humors him like this, but he doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes.

She continues her examination.

The arm is new and sleek and beautiful in the way that only Tony’s creations are, and she studies the point where metal meets flesh.

“This is nice,” she says lightly.

He flexes the hand. “It’s much more comfortable. And responsive.”

“Of course it is,” Natasha says, slightly reprovingly. “Tony wouldn’t have given it to you if he wasn’t happy with it.”

“Natalia,” James says, and it’s been such a long time since anyone’s called her that.

She shakes her head. “Natasha,” she tells him. “Nat is fine.”

He smiles a little at her. “Still picky with your names,” he says, and it’s true, she’s always put more power in the names she goes by than she ought to. But it can’t be helped, because Natasha and Nat and Natalia and for that matter, Tasha, are all subtly different.

“Nat,” James says. “You trust these people.” It is a statement, not a question.

“Yes,” she says simply, because she does, more than she thinks she should, really.

“All right,” he says. “Okay.”

“They’re good people, James,” she says. 

“Maybe I’m not a good person,” he says, and there’s a bitter twist to his mouth.

“Maybe you have done bad things,” she allows, “And so have I, so have they all, but perhaps that does not make us bad people.” She lets her natural accent manifest itself ever so slightly, lets herself fall into an infinitesimally more formal speech pattern, because that’s what James is used to.

James shakes his head. “It’s different.” 

And Natasha narrows her eyes. She has little patience for self-pity. “You are not so special that your past regressions are unforgivable,” she says. “You are _not_ the only one with a past you regret. Do not be so selfish that you are blind to others feeling exactly as you do.”

James’ temper flares, exactly as she remembers, and she almost lets a smile slip through. “They don’t know. They don’t know what it’s _like_ to see yourself doing things that you cannot control. To see yourself doing things willingly and yet unwillingly, things that should never in a million years be done.”

“Do not presume that you know their pasts,” she practically spits. “Do me a favor. Speak to Clint sometime. Or Bruce.”

The fight drains out of James, and he says, “I’m sorry, Nat.”

“And,” Natasha says, pushing her luck a little, “For God’s sake, let Steve see you.”

James sighs. “I’m surprised Steve still wants to speak to me, what with him being the personification of America and me being a Soviet assassin.”

“You are not,” Natasha says. “Not anymore. That is over. And Steve deserves more than silence from you.”

“Steve deserves better than me,” James says, quietly.

And there it is, the problem. Natasha could kill him for being so predictable.

“Steve,” she says softly, “Is the last person that would turn his back on you for things that were not under your control.”

James looks at her then, a mischievous look in his eye, and says, “And what about you?”

“I am the second-to-last person,” she says, smiling at him. “Will you please let him see you? He is driving himself mad.”

“Yes,” James says.

“I will get him,” Natasha offers, because she thinks that maybe James wants a little bit of time to gather himself.

“Thank you,” he says, and he’s thanking her for more than getting Steve.

She leans over, brushes a kiss across his cheek. “I will never turn my back on you,” she says. “You know that.”

“I do,” he says.

She leaves the room noiselessly and goes to find Steve.

*          *          *

Maria Hill walks briskly (she doesn’t know how else to walk) over to her commander. “Sir,” she says, offering him a phone.

“Is it Levine?” Fury barely looks at her.

“Yes, sir,” she says. She’s not always so formal, but the area is teeming with junior agents.

It wouldn’t do to appear familiar with Nicholas J. Fury. They put too much hard work into maintaining his reputation for that.

“I’ll take it,” Fury says.

She hands it over, then waits.

“Agent,” Fury says curtly. “I don’t have all day.”

There is a pause, presumably as Levine says something.

Fury barks out a harsh laugh. “He got the order exactly right,” he says. “I’d play those odds.”

Another pause.

“Give it a week,” Fury says. “It may happen naturally. I’ll let you know if you have to speed it along.”

A short pause, this time. 

Then Fury says, “Yes, Barnes is the fastest way. They’ll close ranks around him. I don’t want to alienate them completely, though. Yes. Keep it up.”

Levine says something else.

“Coulson will side with them,” Fury says, and Maria is sure that she’s not imagining the grim satisfaction in Fury’s voice. “It’s a consequence we’ll have to accept, and of course he’ll still have access to all of our files. Goddamn Stark won’t stay out of our system, but that’ll work in our favor later.” He hangs up, hands it to Maria.

She raises an eyebrow.

“You have some evals to oversee,” Fury says. 

Maria nods and walks away (briskly).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And... first semester is done!!! Hopefully updates will be coming more regularly, although I make no promises.
> 
> Chances are looking good, though!
> 
> There's some lovely Bucky and Steve time to look forward to in the next chapter! (:
> 
> Also, thank you all so much for sticking with me and my erratic updates! I've been awful with this fic, and I apologize a thousand times over! I appreciate you all, and this is me thanking you for every view, kudos, and comment. You guys are actually the greatest.
> 
> (and if you have tumblrs, my url is collectingstories! i'm good at answering messages there (although i may not answer anons because i don't like clogging up my followers' dashes), if you ever want a rough estimate of updates, or if you just want to say hi!)


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